Phantom of the Fox
by meangenius
Summary: A teenage phan goes to see the musical at the Fox and finds someone lurking in the shadows. It's not the Phantom, but it's someone with a deformity that may be even worse. Can she save him from himself, or is she too late?
1. The Fox

My dreams were getting worse.

Every night, I was thrown wildly into another world. Every night it was the same. I stood alone, in a vast expanse of darkness. There was nothing there. There never was. There was no ugliness, but no beauty; no sadness, but no happiness; no despair, but no hope. I could not see. I could not smell. I could not feel.

But I could hear.

In this world of darkness that I visited in my dreams… there was a voice.

I was haunted by this voice. What the world lacked in beauty, that voice made up for a hundred times over. It held within its enchanting tones both sadness and happiness, both despair and hope. It soothed my fears, and at the same time it fed them with a fire that would not be doused.

Even in my waking moments, I was haunted by the voice.

_His voice. _

I had never seen the source of such a sound, but I knew that it could be no other. Who else but he could make such music – a perfect combination of the triumph of heaven and the malice of hell?

I loved it, and yet I could not stand it. I drowned in it, gasping for air and unable to breathe, and at the same time I lusted for more. I loathed it, but I knew I could not live without it. That voice was the very air I breathed, the food I ate, the blood running through my veins, the―

Oh. Heh. Sorry. I guess I'm going a little overboard. You get the picture.

Right. Introductions. Okay.

My name is Alex Carter. Well, it's actually Alexandria, but no one needs to know that.

I'm your average teenage phan. There's not really anything that special about me. I'm kind of a nerd, I love POTO (whoever doesn't seriously needs help), and other than that there's not much to say. I don't have too many friends. I don't really like people all that much.

Anyway, other than my creepy dreams… which I can't decide whether I like them or not… I'm a pretty normal kid. Just a little obsessed. Heh. Just a little.

"Alex! Get down here!"

Oh, crap.

Of all the days to be late for school…

"I'm coming, Mom!" I yelled, stumbling out of bed and across the room. "Just give me a minute!" I could hear her grumbling to my father downstairs about me never being up on time, but I knew she wouldn't come down on me too hard for it. She never did. She woke up late all the time, too.

I yanked on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt, already hurrying out of my room. I almost tripped down the stairs trying to pull my shoes on, and then I remembered that I had to go all the way back up and get my backpack. Then I came downstairs again, and then I remembered I had to go _back _up and get my wallet and my keys.

My mother didn't even look up when I came dashing into the kitchen. She just held out a plate in my direction. I grabbed a piece of toast and stuffed it in my mouth while I pulled on a jacket.

"See you later, Alex," my sister said with a lazy yawn. She was still in her pajamas, just to rub in the fact that she didn't have to go to school for another hour. Grr. Jill was two years younger than me and her school didn't start until nine.

"Bye," I called over my shoulder, and then I was out the door.

The bus driver was so used to my tardiness that she didn't even make a smart comment. I hurried up the steps and collapsed in my seat, breathing heavily.

"Morning," Jenny said from the seat beside mine. She was leaning against the back of the bus with a book in her lap, as always. She, of course, was dressed in matching clothes and had perfectly combed hair. She always woke up at exactly the right time in the mornings, unlike me.

"What's the book today?" I asked, yawning tiredly.

Jenny held it up without taking her eyes away from the page. I bent down to look at the cover and smiled to myself. "Phantom of the Opera," I said with an appreciative nod. "Good."

"Glad I have your approval," she said distractedly, turning the page.

I rolled my eyes at her.

We got off the bus, Jenny still with her nose in the book, and met up with Paul, my other best friend. He was probably the nicest person I knew. I used to have a crush on him, but I gave it up the day I pledged all my love to Erik, the Phantom. (Pathetic, I know.)

I wouldn't have gone out with him anyway. Jenny is completely head over heels for him, and me going out with him would make her feel awful. I'm a sap like that. If one of my best friends wants something, I'll give up what I want to let them have it. A few people have told me that's very selfless and admirable. Most just tell me it's dumb.

Whatever. The point is, I love the Phantom and Jenny loves Paul, and I'm not sure who Paul loves. Got that? Good.

Jenny gave Paul a distracted nod as he fell into step beside us. Even her extreme crush for him couldn't tear her away from Phantom of the Opera. I grinned. That was a fact that made me proud. Watching others appreciate POTO always made me proud.

"So," Paul said conversationally, "you guys remember your tickets?"

"Damn straight," Jenny said without looking up. "Do you really think we'd forget tickets to see Phantom of the Opera? What kind of phans would we be?"

"I can't believe the school is actually being awesome and sending us to see Phantom of the Opera," I said with a laugh. "I mean, usually it's Fernbank or some science center, but this – this is beyond cool. And they're taking us to the Fox, too!"

"Yeah, well, we've been through enough crappy field trips that they owed us a nice one," Paul said with a shrug.

I sighed happily. "I had the Phantom dream again."

"Oh, is that why you were late?" Jenny asked, glancing up at me.

Paul pretended to be shocked. "You actually stopped reading for a second!"

"Yeah, well, it's at the part where Raoul shoots Erik, and I need a moment to fume at the stupidity of fops worldwide," she said with a growl. "You don't _shoot _the Phantom! How dumb can you get?"

"He is a fop," I reminded her.

She mumbled something under her breath – I don't know what, but it sounded deliciously violent – and went back to the book. Paul rolled his eyes slightly and I laughed at the look on his face.

Our English class had just read Phantom of the Opera, and our teacher had decided to take us on a field trip – the first, and only, field trip we'd had all year. They were taking us to the Fox Theater to see the musical. They broke the news to us on my birthday. I had never gotten a better present.

Seriously, though, if they didn't choose someone with a _really _good voice to play the Phantom… well, I'd be mad. If they didn't do him justice, I was going to have a fit. Gerard Butler did all right, but even he was a little rusty at times…

(A/N: GB fans, don't kill me! It's true, he did a great job with few exceptions, but when you think about it, even he couldn't really portray the Phantom's voice. No real person can, actor or not. That's what makes him the Phantom, and that's why we love him!)

"Come on," Paul said, taking us both by the arm and pulling us towards one of the buses. "We'll be late."

"Nothing new for Alex," Jenny muttered, trying to turn the page with the arm he was holding.

I stuck my tongue out at her, but I didn't have a comeback. What she said was the truth, after all, I had to admit it. I always managed to be late for everything.

If there was one thing I would absolutely not miss a minute of, though, it would be this show.

I followed my friends onto the bus and we sat down together, Jenny and me across from one another, Paul behind me. We didn't speak as the bus started up. This felt like a moment to bask in the awesomeness of what we were going to do.

I was preparing myself for the best day in a very long time. Jenny still had her nose in her book, but I could tell from the excited look on her face that she was trying to hold back her own excitement.

We pulled up at the theater and got out. People were turning to look at us as we strode in. I knew what they felt like – I always hated going somewhere sophisticated and having a group of schoolchildren show up to ruin it. Everyone hates schoolkids, and even though we were more mature than the six-year-olds you see at the zoo in a big group with matching t-shirts (**A/N:** shudder), we were still schoolkids.

We filed inside. Some of the girls were almost as excited as me and Jenny – novice phans, pretty dedicated to the Phantom but not as much as me or Jenny. Paul was dedicated to the story, not the Phantom, but if he was a girl, he'd be just as gushy as we were.

We went inside. I saw the usher groan silently at the sight of a huge group of teenage kids. "May I help you?" he said weakly to Mrs. Lawson, our English teacher, who was accompanying us.

"Yes, we need to find our seats, please," she said, offering him her ticket. "They are all right around one another, so you won't have to point them all out."

The man looked very relieved. He found her seat and pointed it out to her. We all followed her and located our seats. I was supposed to sit between Jodie and Katie, two girls who couldn't stand me, my friends, or Phantom of the Opera.

I stood over my seat, scowling, as they came over. It was just my luck. Jenny and Paul got to seat on either side of Sabrina, but I had to sit with these two. Wonderful.

I could tell they were thinking the same thing I was. I glanced over at Jenny, seeking some sympathy, and managed to catch Sabrina's eye. I raised my eyebrows and she immediately nodded, looking relieved. I climbed over the back of my seat, ignoring the look of disapproval I got from the usher, and we quickly swapped tickets. I fought past the rest of our class and plunked down between Jenny and Paul with a sigh of relief.

Jenny looked slightly disappointed. I knew why.

"Jenny," I said to her, "you wanna switch seats with me? You're taller, and I can't see over the head of this guy in front of me."

A grin spread over her face, and she quickly agreed. We switched spots and settled down again. She would take any opporunity to sit next to Paul. I sat down in her seat and propped my chin on my hand, watching the usher. He was actually kind of cute…

_No, _I reminded myself. _You're here to see the Phantom, not ogle over some random usher._

Meanwhile, Jenny was making herself comfortable next to Paul. She loved the Phantom _almost _as much as I did, but she didn't have any qualms about also having a crush on our best friend. I don't think he even noticed. Guys are like that sometimes. Okay, a lot of the time. (**A/N: **Yes, I am a girl.)

The lights darkened all of a sudden. My thoughts immediately deserted the usher, Jenny, Paul, and everything else in the world besides the wonderful musical we were going to see.

(**A/N:** For those of you who don't know the Fox, it's really pretty inside. I just went and saw Rent there. It's themed kind of like a castle, with turrets on either side and balconies on either side of the stage. There's a ceiling with a night sky, stars and all, kind of like a planetarium. It's really pretty in the dark. Anyway, back to the story.)

I sat there in a daze as the show went on. I mouthed the words to all of the songs and even started humming at one point, but Jenny elbowed me and I shut up. I always hated people who hummed.

Still, the songs were so… _addicting…_

I watched all the songs go by, loving every minute of it, storing it away in my mind so I would remember it forever and ever… and ever… and ever… _sigh…_

Suddenly my eye caught on something.

It looked like a shadow, possibly of a person, and it was on the right turret of the theater.

My first impulse was to look away. Of course there would be shadows, there were people working the spotlights and behind the scenes and everything. I looked back at the stage. But something about that shadow kept bugging me, so I looked back up.

It was still there, but it had moved slightly. I studied it for a minute, wondering what it could be.

It looked human, from the general shape and everything. As I watched it, I saw it move again, and I kept an eye on it while turning part of my attention back to the stage. I had missed a minute of the "All I Ask of You" scene, but I always hated that part anyway, and only watched it so I could throw popcorn or insults at the fop. In the Fox, I could do neither, so I looked back up at the shadow.

(**A/N: **Okay, I've never seen the musical sob, so I don't know if the songs are the same as in the movie. I know, I'm a horrible phan, not to have seen it. Anyway, I'm going to treat it as though the songs are the same as in the ALW movie. Just in case I'm wrong, which I probably am, can someone who's seen the musical tell me? Thanks, guys! Sorry if I'm screwing this up! Now, back to the story. She had seen the shadow…)

It had moved so that the slightest bit of light shone on it. I could tell for sure that it was human, and I thought I saw a glimpse of a face, but I couldn't be sure what it looked like from so far away. The figure moved and receded into the shadows again, but my curiousity had spiked. Who was this person and why were they roaming around the Fox?

I tried to put it out of my mind and turned back to the stage.

The next time I looked, the shadow was gone.

_There, you see? _I told myself. _Nothing to worry about. Probably just a stage hand or something. _I turned back and watched the Masquerade song, one of my favorites.

_There it was again!_ That damn shadow, standing on the other turret this time.

I squinted. If I looked hard enough, I could clearly see that it was a face, a body, a person. I don't know what else it could have been, but still, now I could see it close enough to be sure. It looked like a man, but again, from that distance I wasn't positive.

The next few songs passed like that, with the shadow standing up there on the turret just watching like the rest of us. I watched it with one eye and the Wandering Child song with the other.

"Don Juan" distracted me enough that I forgot the shadow for a few minutes. I watched, totally absorbed in the music and the sight before me, and winced along with everyone else when Christine tore Erik's mask right off his face. In the movie, the audience gasped in horror, and now we imitated that gasp, even though we all knew what had been coming and weren't so shocked.

If I hadn't known the shadow was there, I never would have caught what it did next. It jumped up and stood on the edge of the turret. This made me turn my eyes away from the stage – no sane person would do that! It was dangerous!

Without the slightest sign of hesitation, the figure scuttled up over the top of the archway that was the ceiling of the stage, and then, just when I was wondering why no one else was noticing it, the dark shadow suddenly vanished into thin air.

I couldn't help but gasp slightly. Jenny noticed, but she thought it was just due to the musical. It was pretty intense, after all. But I had stopped paying it any attention.

What if the man up there had fallen? What if he had fallen behind the stage and was lying there on the ground, bleeding and dying and unable to call for help? What if he was lying there and _no one knew but me? _The thoughts kept passing through my head, getting worse and worse. What if… what if… what if I ignored what I had seen, and he _died?_

"Crap," I muttered, but nobody heard me over the singing coming from the stage.

I watched the end of the play with mixed feelings. I was elated to be able to see the musical, finally, and was enjoying it, but at the same time I was worried about that shadow, worried that something might have happened and I was the only one who could do anything about it.

I finally made up my mind. I would never be able to live with myself if I didn't at least go check and see if everything was all right. I'd been to the Fox before and knew my way around, at least enough to try and get behind the stage. If I didn't find anything, well, at least I'd tried.

The instant the show ended, I got out of my seat and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Jenny called over the deafening applause.

"Bathroom," I yelled back. "I'm gonna try and beat the crowd."

She nodded in understanding. The Fox always has lines longer than those at Six Flags just to get into the bathrooms. My story was a believable one, and it would buy me time.

I slipped out of the auditorium and went to go and find that shadow of mine.


	2. A Trapdoor and a Harp

**First of all, thanks to all my awesome reviewers! Only three, but still, that's a good start. **

**olinjerad: Thanks a ton for leaving a comment – you're my first reviewer! I'm glad you like the story!**

**kissbangx3: Lol. I did consider calling it Phantom of the Phox, but I didn't. I also worried that people who didn't live in Atlanta wouldn't know what the Fox was, but if these three reviews are any indication, people do know it! Yay!**

**Phantom Mega Phan: I want to see POTO at the Fox! I want to _so bad! _You're so lucky! Can't you just imagine the Phantom hiding around in there? I was sitting through Rent and kept imagining that I was seeing his shadow, and that's how I came up with this story. I'm glad you like it! Thanks for reviewing!

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The darkness was suffocating. I wasn't even sure I was heading in the right direction anymore. I could still hear the sound of the audience clapping, though, and that told me that I was at least close to the stage. They were on the fourth curtain call.

I sped up a little. If I took too long down here, I'd be late for the bus, and they'd either leave without me or be _very _pissed off.

I could hear Jenny now: "Oh, Alex, I know you're late for the bus to school in the mornings, but I didn't even know it was possible to be late for a bus from a field trip…" She'd never let me live it through if I got stuck here, stranded without a ride.

The applause slowly died down and I heard hundreds – thousands – of footfalls somewhere above me and to my right. People were leaving the theater.

"Hmph," I grumbled as I felt my way along the dark hallway. "If I'd been up there, they wouldn't have stopped at four curtain calls. There would've been ten… maybe twenty… but no, I just happened to see this stupid shadow, and now I'm wandering around underneath the Fox trying to look for something that I'm not even sure I saw…"

I stubbed my toe on something and my monologue was cut short. I swore quietly under my breath and knelt, groping around, trying to find what I had tripped over.

It was wooden, whatever it was, and it felt big, maybe a few square feet.

My hand found a cold metal ring in the middle and my eyes grew wide. It was a trapdoor!

I admit it – for an instant, I wondered. The thought crossed my mind. _Could I have found the lair? **His **lair? Maybe, maybe, just maybe…_

Of course, common sense caught up with me before I let myself get carried away. _Of course not, _I told myself sternly. _The Phantom's a myth, and even if he wasn't, he would be close to two hundred years old right now. Get a grip. It's probably just a regular trapdoor._

What is it about trapdoors? Whenever I think of the word, I think of something strange and mysterious, something that will lead to a great adventure of some sort. I guess I was remembering the Phantom's nickname, "The Trap-Door Lover."

Well, whatever was going on in my mind, it eventually looped back around to the actual problem at hand, which was that I had tripped over a trapdoor that was stuck in the middle of the hallway.

"Okay," I muttered. "To open, or not to open?"

Of course, being as stupidly curious as I was, I opened it.

Light flooded the corridor. I blinked and lifted a hand to shield my eyes. The sudden switch from dark to light was painful. I waited until my eyes stopped watering and then opened them again.

I could see everything clearly now. The hall that I had been walking through was made of cold stone and was obviously deserted. There were cobwebs in the corners, filled with dead things. Ick. I looked down the hallway in the direction I had been walking and saw that there was a dead end.

Despite the creepy situation, I chuckled. I could just see myself walking straight into that wall and falling backwards, just like some idiot in a comic strip.

With this comical idea in mind, I turned back to the trapdoor.

The room that it opened into looked as dreary and lonely as the hallway that I was currently sitting in. I shrugged to myself. Why not? Without bothering to wonder about what could happen, I slid my legs through and dropped the short distance to the floor of the room.

My first thought was, _I **have **found his lair! _

The room was lit by torches all along the wall, the old kind of torches made from really big sticks. They weren't hung in hooks, though, like in castles – they were stuck haphazardly in cracks that spread across the stone walls. It was lucky none of them were falling and rolling across the floor.

I turned in a full circle, staring around me at the place. The room I was in was small, just a cube of stone with flaming torches all around the walls. The shabbiness made me sure without a doubt that this was nothing of the Phantom's, not that it would have been anyway… sometimes my imagination gets the better of me.

My eyes landed on a door in the corner. It was the same color as the rest of the wall and I had almost missed it entirely. I stepped over to it, avoiding a few stray sparks from the torches and a few quick-footed spiders. There wasn't a handle, so I did the only thing I could have done – pushed.

The door swung open. Cautiously, I stepped into the next room.

It was a little darker in here, and the room was much, much bigger. The torches were spread in farther intervals, so that there was a flaming stick every fifteen feet or so. This gave the whole room a creepy feeling, as though there were shadows flitting around all over the place. I had to stand there for a minute and convince myself that I was really the only one there.

The room was mostly empty. There were a few other doors on one side of the wall, and in one corner, standing all by itself and looking incredibly lonely, was a harp.

It was a beautiful thing, old and worn in a way that made it seem loved, not abadoned. It was the only thing in the room that wasn't coated with dust, meaning it had been played recently, by whoever occupied these strange underground caverns.

Out of nowhere, a totally irrelevant thought struck me. _The Phantom of the Opera never had a harp. All he had was that organ of his. I've always thought the organ was a boring instrument. Why didn't he have a harp? He could have worked wonders with a harp._

My mind started to argue with itself again._ He worked wonders with an organ just fine, stupid._

_Yeah, but a harp would've been cooler. _

_Obviously, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber thought differently._

_Yeah, but if he'd had a harp instead of that organ, Christine couldn't have come up behind him and torn his mask of on the piano bench, could she? Then he wouldn't have yelled at her, and that day would've ended on a good note, and the story would've been better._

_She still would've torn his mask off, idiot. He would've had to sit somewhere to play the harp._

_I don't care. I'm going to rewrite POTO where he has a harp instead._

My mind groaned at itself in irritation.

I walked over to the harp and stared at it for a minute, wondering if someone did actually live down here. It would be a pretty crappy place to live, considering it was old and dusty and cobwebby, but you never knew…

_Of course not, _I told myself, shaking my head. _It's probably just where someone in the orchestra practices or something. Nobody would live down here. Of course not. Don't be stupid._

Ideas of the Phantom were still racing through my mind. I couldn't stop them.

In an effort to quiet them, I looked back at the harp. I had always wanted to learn how to play one of those. They sounded so wonderful, and watching someone play it was so soothing….

_It's so beautiful, why would someone just leave it down here in this dusty old place?_

My doubts about someone living down here in the cellars of the theater were returning. I groaned silently. My imagination was always running away with me in situations like this – not that I'd ever been in a situation quite like this before in my life.

_Don't be a moron, _I told myself firmly. _Nobody lives down here. _

I felt disappointment spread through me and fought an urge to laugh.

_What did I expect? The Phantom of the Fox?_

I reached out to touch the harp. I wanted to pluck a string, just one, to hear how it sounded, and then I would turn right back around and leave again. Enough with the shadow and this weird place. _Phantom of the Fox, _I thought again, smiling. _Right._

My fingers hovered just over the harp's beautiful, shiny strings, trying to decide which to pluck, when suddenly a voice rang out from behind me.

"Don't touch the harp!"


	3. The Phantom of the Fox

**Thanks to my reviewers!**

**MonMaskedAnge: Thank you for leaving a review! I'm glad you like the story. I try to write a chapter every day, so please don't Punjab me! Thanks for answering my questions about the musicals. I really need to go see those… And, as you'll see in this chapter, the voice isn't Erik. You're right – if it was his voice, I would have made a bigger deal of it, like that whole beginning in Chapter 1. It takes a good phan to notice that. Thanks again, and I love your username!

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I must have jumped ten feet in the air when I heard that voice. I mean, it came out of nowhere! I had a right to be freaked out by it! I spun around, tripping over my own feet in my hurry to see what had startled me. Luckily, I didn't hit the harp as I flailed about.

A young man, probably young enough to still be in high school, was standing just behind me. His face was innocent, honest, and – at the moment – nervous. He was watching me with a sort of apprehensive fear.

"Please," he said, "don't touch the harp."

I relaxed a little. After all, how afraid could I be? He was just a teenager like me!

"Why not?" I shot back, curious.

The guy's eyes widened a little. "It's _his_," he said in a meaningful voice.

I didn't get it. "What do you mean? Who is 'he'?"

"He'll be angry if you touch his harp," the strange guy said, not answering my question. His eyes flicked to the harp and then back up to me. "He's always angry when someone touches his harp."

"Well, can you touch it?" I asked.

He nodded eagerly. "Yes, sometimes he lets me play it. When he's in a bad mood, though, I don't even try to go near it. He does terrible things when he's angry." The boy shuddered.

"Who is he?" I asked again.

Hewalked past me and gazed down at the harp. There was a strange look in his eye, one that I had always imagined being in the Phantom's eye – love. Love for an instrument. It was the kind of love that surpassed the love of family, of friends, of lovers. It was understanding, above all else.

"Who are you?" I asked, giving up on trying to find out who 'he' was.

"I am no one."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I can't be talking to no one."

"You are."

Man, talk about not knowing when to give up. "Look, I was in the theater and I saw someone walking along the turrets at the top. Whoever it was, they fell off. I came down here because I thought they might have gotten hurt. Do you know who it was?"

"Oh," the boy said with a shrug, "that was him."

"Is he all right?"

"He's fine. He's always up there, climbing around, watching the shows. Sometimes he lets me watch them, but I'm usually too afraid of being up so high. I don't like heights."

"Uh-huh," I said slowly. "Does… _he _live down here?"

"Yes," the boy said sadly, nodding. "Yes, we both do. There isn't anywhere else we can go. There isn't anywhere else that we could live. Yes, we live down here. We have lived down here for a very long time, he and I." The boy got a wistful look in his eyes. "It gets lonely sometimes, but whenever I want to go up, he reminds me that there is nowhere for us there… no one, nowhere, nothing…"

"Well, I'm someone," I pointed out.

He smiled slightly. "I know." His smile disappeared and he grew serious all of a sudden. "He would be angry if he saw you here. You have to go, before he finds you. He doesn't like people. He always knows when I try to speak to them – and he's right, I can't, there is nobody out there for us…"

Suddenly he had taken my arm and was leading me back into the room with the trapdoor.

"Hey!" I struggled furiously in his grasp. "Quit it! You can't just throw me back out!"

"This is our home," he said, turning to look at me, "and you are here without his permission."

"Can you _not _talk about _him _for just two seconds?" I said furiously.

The boy sighed and let go of me. I think he figured it was too much trouble trying to get me to leave. Smart of him. I rubbed my arm and took another good look at him now that he had pulled us closer to a light.

He was tall and sort of rugged-looking. In fact, now that I took the time to look, he was actually not bad looking, either. Kind of hot in a lost, creepy sort of way. After all, the guy did live underground in a cave with some dude he wouldn't say the name of, but who he was mortally afraid of.

M curiosity got the better of me again. "Why are you so afraid of him?"

"Because I don't understand him," the boy said quietly. He motioned for me to sit and I did so. It didn't even occur to me, preoccupied as I was, that the bus had probably already left without me.

I stared at the boy. "That whole 'mankind fears what it doesn't understand' crap?"

He looked at me like I was insane. I let it drop and asked another question. My mind couldn't seem to come up with enough of them. "So… how long have you been haunting the Fox?"

"Haunting," he said with a slight laugh. "I like that. It makes us sound like the Phantom."

"You know about the Phantom of the Opera?" I asked, excited.

He looked at me, again, like I was insane. "They perform the musical right outside my living room every other week. Of course I know about the Phantom of the Opera."

Right. Duh.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "Well, yeah, it looks to me like you and the Phantom have a lot in common. I mean, you both live underneath playhouses, even if yours is the Fox and his was an opera house in Paris two hundred years ago."

"A hundred and thirty years ago," he corrected me.

Ouch. A phan, corrected on a phact. That stung.

"Right," I said, feeling stupid.

He grinned at me, and I realized he had been teasing. I rolled my eyes at him to cover my embarrassment. Then I remembered what I had thought of before. "Hey," I said, and grinned back at him, "that makes you the Phantom of the Fox, right?"

He chuckled. "I guess."

"Well, you don't have a name, so I have to call you something," I pointed out.

The Phantom of the Fox shrugged. "You can call me that if you want. I kind of like it. But if anyone is a Phantom of the Fox, it's _him_, not me. He is the one who moves around like a shadow. He is the one you saw lurking up there in the theater, not me. You should be calling him that."

There was a silence for a second. I was wondering (yet again) who exactly 'he' was, but I knew I shouldn't bother asking, since this guy wouldn't answer.

"Well," he said after a moment, "it was good of you to stop by to see if everyone was okay, but you should really be going. You'll be in enough trouble with him now, even though you didn't touch his harp." He gestured to the trapdoor. "Can you find your way back up?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "I'll be fine. Just one more question, if you don't mind me asking…"

"Go ahead," he said.

I hesitated. "Um… why exactly do you live under the Fox?"

His eyes grew sad. I felt bad for asking, and for a minute I wondered if he was going to answer or just leave. I was debating whether or not to apologize and get out of there when he replied.

"Everywhere else has shunned us," he said quietly, "and we have nowhere else to go. We are safe here."

"Safe?" I repeated. "Living by yourself under a theater? What about your family? Didn't you ever have a home―?"

"This is my home," he cut in, giving me a sorrowful smile. "Goodbye, stranger."

I stared at him, but his tone had left no opportunity for further argument.

And it was about then that I remembered my bus.

"Crap!" I yelped all of a sudden, turning and dashing for the trapdoor. The last thing I saw was the confused face of the boy behind me as I jumped up and down, trying to reach the edge of the trapdoor. When I'd come in, I'd forgotten that it was too far a jump to get back out as easily.

The weird guy came up behind me and held me still, grasping my waist so he could lift me up to the edge of the trapdoor. I blinked in surprise and grabbed the edges, pulling myself up and being careful not to kick him in the face. I looked back down at him and gave him a smile of thanks.

"Goodbye," he said again, looking sad to see me go. No wonder, too. He probably never has company.

"Bye," I replied, shutting the trapdoor behind me and dashing off down the dark hallway towards the exit.

Sure enough, the bus was just pulling away. I waved my arms frantically above my head, shouting for it to stop. People leaving the theater stopped and stared at me. The driver saw me and groaned in exasperation before stopping the bus and opening the door. I raced towards it, sprinting as fast as I could, thanking whatever merciful deity had helped me out―

And tripped headfirst into a puddle.

I lay there for a second, one foot out of the water and both hands still raised as though I was running, in an extremely comical position. I think the bus driver forgave my tardiness because I amused her so much with that stunt of mine.

I got to my feet, grumbling under my breath, and jogged onto the bus. Everyone was trying not to laugh. Jenny was doing the worst job out of them all. Paul gave her a look that told her now wasn't the time. As always, she listened to him, and her laughs died away, though she let loose an occasional giggle at the sight of my clothes, which were now officially drenched.

"Gee, thanks," I muttered, sitting down in my own seat and scrunching up.

"Sorry," she said apologetically, "but you have to admit that was funny."

I grumbled and didn't answer.

"Where were you?" Paul asked, leaning forward in his seat so he could look me in the eye. "Jenny said you went to the bathroom early so you could miss the lines, and you were still the last one out of the theater."

I raced to come up with an excuse. They would only think me insane if I told them about the weirdo I'd met down in the cellars. "I was helping one of the ushers find a lost kid," I made up on the dot. Great story. It made me sound like a hero and gave me an excuse at the same time.

"Really," Jenny said skeptically. I could tell she didn't believe me.

I shrugged and turned to look out the window.

My mind was racing. It needed a minute to catch up with things. So there was a guy living underneath the Fox. Two guys, actually. One of them had fallen off the archway above the theater, and the other was a cute, nice guy who played the harp and was afraid of the first guy.

Confusing much?

And why did he keep saying there was noplace for him to go, that no one would take him in? I might believe that of a dirty little orphan with a scrubby face or a deformed child (my mind always loops back to the Phantom), but not a good-looking, healthy young teenager like him. My mind struggled to recall a mental picture of him. He had been wearing dark blue jeans and a black shirt that weren't easy to see in the dark, but from what I could remember, they hadn't been too dirty or mangy. All things considered, he looked pretty much like an average teenager.

If I was an adult looking to adopt somebody, I'd adopt him. Of course, that might be my hormones talking, since he _is _pretty cute, and I'm a teenager too…

Anyway, my point is that if he wanted a home, he could probably get one. Why live under the Fox?

Well, one thing was for sure – I was going to find out just who these two strangers were, why they lived underneath the theater, of all places, and what their deal was.

Of course, that meant I was going to have to work out a way to get into the cellars of the Fox again, seeing as I wasn't about to go buy another ticket just so I could talk to them. You kidding? The tickets to the Fox are too expensive for that kind of thing! I would have to find a way to sneak in.

And I'd need an excuse. That part was easy. There was a shop close to there that I liked. I could get my parents to drop me off there and then I'd slip away to the Fox and be back before they returned to pick me up.

I knew it sounded easier than it would actually be.

_Well, until I think of a plan, _I thought to myself as I watched the buildings go buy (there aren't any trees in that part of Atlanta), _I'm going to start that story with the Phantom and the harp._

My mind groaned at itself again.


	4. Problem Solved

**Thanks to all who read and all who reviewed!**

**kissbangx3: Actually, that was my idea all along. As soon as I'm done with this phic – or maybe even while I'm writing it – I'm going to publish the Phantom and the Harp, or maybe that story by some other name.**

**Anyone who has an idea for the title of the story of the Phantom and the harp, I'd love suggestions! Thanks to all of you awesome people for reading, and if you'd be so kind, my day would get a whole lot better if you'd just leave one quick review! **

**Ciao!

* * *

**

For the next week, I tried over a thousand times to think of a way to sneak into the Fox. I didn't know of any back way into the theater, and without either finding blueprints or being there to look for one, I didn't think there was any way of knowing.

As far as my limited knowledge was concerned, the only way in was the front entrance, and you needed a ticket to get inside.

"Well, this sucks," I said to myself, lying on my bed at home. It was Saturday, a.k.a. the day when I do nothing, and I had spent the last hour trying to solve this new problem.

I wasn't having much luck.

Jill knocked on my door. "Alex? You in there?"

"Yeah," I called.

She opened the door and came in. She was wearing a Driveshaft shirt with a picture of Charlie Pace on it – you know, that guy from Lost? He really is kind of cute, I must admit. Jill was almost as in love with him as I was with the Phantom.

Okay, sometimes much more in love.

"What're you doing?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at me. I must've looked like a lazy bum, just lying there like that, too lazy to even turn my head and look at her.

I stared up at the ceiling boredly. "Contemplating the meaning of life."

"Bull."

I turned – painstakingly – to look at her. "What do you think I'm doing?" I asked. I could imagine the look on her face if I told her I was planning to break into the Fox, find two guys who were living underneath it, and write a phanphic about a Phantom and a harp in my spare time.

"Daydreaming about your Phantom again?" Jill guessed.

I turned my eyes back to the ceiling and smiled. "Yep. You know me too well." She snorted and I glared at her. "Don't laugh, you do it with Charlie. I caught you drooling once. Like, seriously drooling." I grinned evilly. "I still have the pictures."

"I hate you."

I smirked slightly. "I know."

"Mom and Dad want to talk to you," she said, leaning against the doorway and crossing her arms.

I groaned. "Tell them I'm busy."

She snorted again. "Daydreaming or contemplating the meaning of life?"

"Pick one."

"Alex, that's pathetic."

"Welcome to my world."

"Dude," she said, "you want to hear this. It's cool. It's not like they're going to ask you to clean your room or take out the garbage, not like they usually do."

I shut my eyes. "Is it worth me moving?"

"Is going to the Fox worth you moving?"

My eyes shot open and I sat up as fast as I could. It was way too fast. I yelped and toppled sideways off my bed, landing spread-eagled on the floor. I grabbed my blankets to pull myself back up and they fell on top of me, tangling me in the sheets so that I had to struggle furiously just to poke my head out of the mess.

Jill stared at me with her mouth hanging open. "I guess so."

I mumbled darkly under my breath and sat up. "Seriously? We're going to the Fox? When? Why?"

She looked a little scared at my outburst. I guess she had a right to be. "Um… Friday night, Alex, and don't get so excited. We're not seeing the Phantom of the Opera."

I deflated slightly. "Oh. What are we seeing?"

"Rent."

"Cool. And… why exactly are we just randomly going to the Fox?"

"Dad won four tickets from work. He entered one of those contests where you stick your business card in a jar and they draw one after a few days. His got drawn. Why are you so excited?"

"Dude," I said, covering up my real reason, "why are you not?"

Jill rolled her eyes.

Hm. Funny. People seem to do that to me a lot.

I grinned from ear to ear, untangled myself, and hugged my sister, so great was my utter happiness. My problem was solved! I could now go solve the mystery of the Phantom of the Fox!

Jill slowly backed away from me. "Are you okay?"

Yeah. I don't hug my sister often. In fact, I don't hug people in general often. Of course, if I ever met Erik, my Phantom, I would hug him or die trying…

Sorry. Anyway, as I was saying…

"Oh, I'm fine, Jill. Come on. Let's talk to Mom and Dad." I took her arm and dragged her down the hall.

"I thought you were busy?" she asked sarcastically.

"The meaning of life can wait! Oh, have I told you that I'm writing a story where the Phantom had a harp instead of an organ?"

Jill groaned. "Mom, Alex is being weird again!"

"Alex, honey," my mother called down the hall, "are you obsessing again?"

"Only a little, Mom," I said with a sigh. Nobody understood. It wasn't an obsession. It was… it was deeper, more significant – so yeah, for lack of a better word, I guess it was an obsession.

Did you know obsession is one of very few nouns that ends in 'ion' but not 'tion'? Like 'intuition', 'duration', 'creation', 'vacation', 'graduation', 'infatuation', 'tuition'… I could go on for another few pages like this, but then you would hate me for being boring, so I'll stop there.

Just thought you'd like to know.

So, anyway, as you can see, I was ecstatic. I had solved my problem. Well, I hadn't really done anything. The dudes who drew my dad's card out of a jar had solved my problem. Actually, their bosses had solved it, since they were the ones who decided to hold the competition –

Never mind.

Anyway, during intermission, I'd say that I needed a bathroom break or that I wanted to explore. I'd come back in a little late, but I'd blame it on getting lost or being in a line too long, or on the fact that no matter what, I am always late, in one way or another.

Foolproof.

Of course, knowing me, I'd mess it up despite the fact that it appeared foolproof, but hey, that would be fine. I'd make it work. This was too great an opportunity to waste.

-

Okay. Before I continue, I must warn you people. You avid, loyal readers may stop reading after an announcement of this severity. You may want to take a moment and decide whether you would like to risk reading the forewarned sentence.

Seriously, it may shock, horrify, or even disgust a few of you out there. Such a profound statement could throw the earth off its axis, turn the universe inside out, and do various other crazy things, like turn people into goo or make reality reverse itself.

Or – and this is rather extreme – _you could be so shocked you gasped and swallowed a bug._

Ladies and gentlemen, those of you with faint hearts, back problems, pregnancy, mental health issues, and/or anger management problems should skip the next sentence.

…

…

Are you ready?

…

_**On Monday morning, I was on time.**_

(pause for effect)

That's right, people. I – Alex Carter, universal loser, master of being late – was on time. Not late. Not tardy. Punctual. That's right. Punctual.

I apologize for any distress this may have caused.

I even had time to pick matching clothes. I ate a long and leisurely breakfast. I walked to the bus stop and got there with time to spare. When the bus pulled up, I was leaning against a telephone pole, managing to look cool and not messing it up.

When I walked up the steps onto the bus, I could hear mutters of astonishment at my on-time-ness. I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face.

"Everyone, please remain calm," I said grandly. "It is true, I am not late. I know, it's a miracle, and I should be given a medal. Please, let's wait for the stunned applause until after the bus has come to a complete stop at our final destination―"

My grand speech was cut short as the driver stepped on the gas, causing me to trip over myself and fall flat on my face.

Great. Just great.

Amid the scattered laughs, I heard a few claps. I got up, swept a clumsy bow, and plopped into my seat. "Glad I could amuse you people," I muttered to Jenny, who was laughing so hard she was about to do a face-plant of her own. This was all the more pathetic because she was sitting down. Who does a face-plant sitting down?

Of course, I could do it without even trying.

"So, why were you miraculously on time this morning?" Jenny asked me, putting aside her book. She was done with the Phantom of the Opera. Now she was reading Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Honestly, how that girl can go from one of those to the other is a mystery to me.

"I have news," I said breathlessly.

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"I'm going back to the Fox!" I said with a grin. I think I even squealed a little bit. Sickening. Looking back, I am disgusted by myself. Oh, well. I was excited.

"Really." Jenny opened her book and put her nose back in it. "Congrats."

"You sound decidedly unenthusiastic."

"Yep."

She was trying to get me to ask why. Being the sucker that I am, I humored her. "Why?"

"I'm shunning you."

I groaned. "Why?"

"Because."

"…"

"Because you're not telling me something. That day we went and saw Phantom of the Opera, you were doing something that made you late, and it wasn't saving a kid. I know you better than that."

Sometimes I wish people didn't know me so well. "So?"

"So what were you doing?"

"Why does it matter?"

"If it didn't, you would've told me."

I had no answer to that. "Meh."

She sniffed and turned the page of her book, ignoring me.

"Okay, Jenny," I said with a heavy sigh, "you want to know what I was doing? I was watching the musical and I saw this shadow walking around on the turrets, and it fell off over the edge, and when the musical was over I went down there to see if I could find it, and I found a trapdoor in the hallway and went in, and I found this room with this harp, and I found this random guy there who lives under the theater with some other guy who owns the harp that I don't know, and he's the one that fell off the turrets, and I'm happy about going back to the Fox so I can find them again."

Jenny didn't even look up from her book. "You need help."

I groaned. "Look, today started as a good day for me. Can we please try to keep it that way? Can't we call a truce and talk about this some other time? Pretty please? Pretty pretty please? Pretty pretty pretty―"

"Okay, okay," she said quickly. "Sorry. I just hate it when you won't tell me things."

"I'll tell you at some point, I promise."

She sighed and shrugged. "Well, congratulations on the Fox, and on being on time. I'll try to remember every minute of it, since I know it'll probably never happen again."

"Gee, thanks."

"Welcome."

We got off the bus and saw Paul. He walked over to meet us and we walked into school together. Jenny spoke without looking up from her book. "Hey, Paul, guess what?"

"What?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"Alex wasn't late for the bus today."

Paul laughed aloud. "Ha, ha, very funny."

I glared at him and Jenny chuckled. "Paul, we're not kidding."

He stared at me. "Seriously? _You _made it to the bus on time? Should I be worried?"

"Yeah," I said sarcastically. "I was on time for the bus. The world is going to end. Why don't we all run around screaming 'the apocalypse is here!' and see what happens?"

"Sounds good to me," Jenny said absentmindedly, turning the page.

Paul and I just rolled our eyes.

So started the week leading up to my visit to the Fox.

It wouldn't go by fast enough.


	5. Back Through the Trapdoor

**Hello again! Sorry that took so long.**

**kissbangx3: Thanks for reviewing every chapter! You're awesome! Yeah, I like writing Jill's parts. She's a fun character. They're all fun characters! I love this story… (trails off wistfully)**

**Mrs. Gerard Butler: I'm late a lot, too, but not as late as Alex! Thanks so much for putting me on your favorites – that made my day! And thanks a ton for reviewing! **

**I'llTryMyBestToBeGlindaTheGood: I like the harp idea too. I think I'm really going to write that story. Do you have any suggestions for a title? Thanks for reviewing, and please keep reading! I loved writing this part, it was so much fun!

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Last period English on Friday was almost unbearable. I lay there, staring at the board, willing myself not to look back up at the clock. Just wait a little longer… there were only ten minutes until the end of class the last time I checked, so now there would probably only be two or three…

I sneaked a peek.

And swore under my breath.

Thirty seconds. _Thirty seconds _had passed since I last looked at the clock. That was forever ago! How could time pass this slowly? The clock was broken. It was a conspiracy. The CIA had found out about the guys under the Fox and were slowing down time so they would have time to go down and find them before I got the chance.

My foot was tapping out a rapid beat on the floor. Jenny looked like she was trying to ignore it, but she was failing. I stopped and she relaxed slightly, but my foot started up again without me realizing just two seconds later. In fact, if you added in a few notes, you could almost turn the tapping into a rough version of Yankee Doodle.

Of course, now that I had thought of this, I had to go on and sing the entire song in my head.

I looked at the clock.

Eight and a half minutes left.

Well, I'd wasted a minute with Yankee Doodle. Now what?

"Alex, would you please refrain from looking at the clock and pay attention?" the English teacher said sharply, glaring at me. "I'm sure you have more important things you'd rather be doing, but at the moment, the only thing you should be concerned about is comma splices."

I gritted my teeth and she turned back to the book. I looked down at the page and tried to pay attention. It was impossible. My foot started tapping again. Jenny elbowed me in the ribs.

"Ow," I muttered.

"Quit it."

"But I already know everything I'll ever need to know about comma splices," I muttered to her. "They're bad. Why should we need to know the grammar behind something we're never supposed to use?"

"Alex," the teacher said warningly, turning around to look at me.

I smiled at her innocently. "I'm listening."

She rolled her eyes – _that again! _– and turned back to the book.

"Your mom's a comma splice," I muttered under my breath, and then chanced a look at the clock.

Six minutes left.

I closed my eyes, held back a groan, and imagined my teacher being attacked by the Phantom. I watched as he expertly tossed the Punjab and secured it around her neck. She screamed in horror as he leaped down beside her and glared at her through glowing yellow eyes.

"Agh! Noooooo!" she wailed.

"Your mom's a comma splice," the Phantom hissed, eyes flashing in delight, as he pulled on the rope.

I replayed this scenario about ten times, adding more pleading and screaming on my teacher's part and a few evil laughs for the Phantom. I also substituted a fat bald guy with 'comma splice' printed across his shirt, and the Phantom lassoed him, too.

All the while, I was sitting there in English class, giving an occasional evil chuckle. I watched the scenes replay in my mind, listened to the pained screeches of both my teacher and the comma splice dude, and muttered, "You should've kept your hand at the level of your eyes."

"What?"

I blinked and realized that Jenny was staring at me. I had said that out loud by accident. Whoops. But before I could even open my mouth to explain, the bell had rung.

"_Yes!_"

The word tore from my mouth. Before anyone else was even out of their seats, I had raced to the door, flung it open, and was faced with an empty hallway. The end of school. The beginning of a weekend.

I sped to my locker, got my books, and was the first one to the doors. I pushed them open and managed (miraculously) not to trip. "I'm free!" I called out to the open sky.

I was the first one on the bus.

Motivation can do a world of wonders.

* * *

We got to the Fox on time, despite a problem with trying to find a parking space. I tell you, walking three blocks in a skirt and heels definitely isn't easy.

Poor Jill.

I was so tempted to laugh at her from where I walked calmly along in dress pants and flip-flops, but the look on her face told me I would be dead if I so much as chuckled. I wisely kept my mouth shut. She made it to the Fox, but there were already blisters all over her feet.

"Remind me never to do this again," she groaned as we waited in line for our tickets.

I gave her a sympathetic look. I'd never been a heels person, and this was just one of a very long list of reasons why. "I'd carry you if you weren't taller than me."

This got a smirk of satisfaction. My sister always loves to gloat that she's two years younger, and yet two inches taller than me. In heels, she was even taller. Do you know how obnoxious it is, having to look up at your younger sister?

Anyway, we were shown to our seats by a rather snappy usher. Shame. I was hoping for the cute one that had shown us our seats during the Phantom of the Opera. This one was an angry old lady.

"Yes, yes, your seats are there, have a _wonderful_ time," she said shortly, and then turned to help a young couple. I hate when people say stuff like that, in the tone of voice that says 'I don't really care, just get away from me so I don't have to talk to you any longer.'

Under my breath, I muttered, "Keep your hand at the level of your eyes, lady."

Jill heard me and rolled her eyes, but I saw the slightest hint of a smile and knew she had found that at least a little bit funny. She probably agreed with me. I watched the young couple hurry away from the usher to their seats, looking intimidated, and knew that they agreed with me, too.

I sat there, twitching impatiently, until finally the lights dimmed and the room grew dark.

I think that was when it really hit me. _I'm back. I'm going to see the Phantom of the Fox again._

The music started, and people cheered. The music in Rent wasn't as beautiful as Phantom of the Opera, but it was more modern and – at least to some people, Jill included – more fun to listen to.

One of the singers, Roger, a washed-up rock god, came on stage in plaid pajama pants. I laughed aloud at the sight he made, and Jill echoed me. "He's so cool!" she whispered, grinning like crazy. "He's cooler than he was in the movie, even! And he sounds almost exactly the same!"

I grinned. "Sounds like he's the new Charlie Pace."

She gave me a horrified look. "How could you? No one will ever replace Charlie!" She turned back to look at the stage and cocked her head. "I bet he'd look good in plaid pajama pants, though, too."

I rolled my eyes and then took a moment to try and imagine the Phantom in plaid pajama pants.

_Ew. _Horrible mental image. Forget that.

The musical continued through all the songs that had been in the movie, and even a few more. It was great, but after a while, I couldn't stand it any longer. I just wanted the intermission to come so that I could get out of there as fast as possible.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, it came.

"Okay," my dad said, "I'll buy you girls drinks now, if you want."

Jill nodded eagerly, stealing another glance at the stage, where Roger was exiting. He'd changed out of his plaid pants, but he was still her favorite. She didn't like Mimi. The singer wasn't nearly as good as the one in the movie, and she couldn't hit some of the high notes.

I spoke quickly. "Guys, I'm gonna run to the restrooms. The lines are always really long, so if I'm a little late, don't wait up."

They nodded distractedly and left.

I grinned. _Score. _I had ten or fifteen minutes to go find and talk to the guy. It wasn't enough time to do any serious talking, but I might be able to ask him if there was a back way into the theater so that I could sneak in and talk to him another time. Then I could use the excuse that there was a shop nearby that I wanted to visit and get my parents to let me come.

I snuck past the restroom line and down the same empty hall as last time. Since I knew the way, it didn't take me long to find the trapdoor. I didn't even trip over it this time.

I knelt and pulled it open, feeling my excitement build. I was actually going back down.

I held onto the edges of the door and dropped carefully into the room below. I didn't worry about getting back out – the Phantom of the Fox could help me, like he did last time.

I took a moment to look around.

The place looked the same as it had the first time – lonely and rugged. I decided that I liked it. Sure, it wasn't the same as the Phantom's lair, all perfect and pretty and grand, but at least it had a feeling of mystery around it.

I walked through the room with the torches that were stuck in the cracks – from now on, I'll call them the crack-torches – and sank deep into my thoughts.

Maybe I'd get to see the other guy this time. _Him. _Whoever he was. I was still wondering why the guy I'd met, the one I dubbed the Phantom of the Fox, was so sure that he was all right. I had seen him vanish from the top of the Fox. How could he be all right?

Unless he, like the Phantom, knew about secret pathways.

I liked this idea. Maybe he hadn't fallen. Maybe he'd disappeared down a secret set of stairs or something.

_Cool_, I thought to myself, smiling as I crossed from one room into the other. I was in the harp room. _This place has two Phantoms of the Fox. I really hit the jackpot, didn't I? This is awesome. _

I paused just inside the harp room and looked around. There were doors leading to other rooms, but at the moment they were all closed, and I was slightly afraid of what lurked behind them. In the Phantom's lair, you didn't go around opening doors. You'd probably end up in a torture chamber.

For once, I was smart and didn't go to open any of them. If the Phantom of the Fox was down here, he'd find me eventually. He did last time, after all.

That reminded me of what I had been doing last time. I had been about to pluck a string on the harp.

_I really need to get cracking on that story, _I remembered. _The Phantom and the Harp, or whatever I was going to call it. It'd be cool. I'll write some tonight when I get home. _

My eyes lingered on the harp. I wanted to hear it at least once.

I walked over. I did the same as last time – let my fingers hover over the strings, trying to decide which would be the one to touch first. I was almost waiting for the voice of the young man who had interrupted me last time. I almost expected him to do the same now and startle me with his words.

In fact, that's exactly what he did.

The thing was, it wasn't the fact that he spoke that startled me.

It was what he said.

"Touch that harp and you'll be dead before you turn around."


	6. Him

**I was so excited about this chapter that I started it right after posting the last one. It was the most fun so far, I think. I love the new character! Thanks for reviewing, thanks for reading, and I hope you love it!**

**Dani Blues: I'm glad you like her. I do, too. Thanks for reviewing and for putting my story on your favorites. It makes me so happy when someone does that! Keep reading!**

**Kissbangx3: Sorry it was too short. I don't do long chapters very well. Maybe this one will be a little longer than the last one. I was tempted to stop writing and leave it at a cliffhanger at a few points, but I didn't want it to be too short, so I kept writing. Hope you like!**

**I'llTryMyBestToBeGlindaTheGood: I'm glad you liked the teacher part. I did, too! I wrote that while I was working, just out of a burst of random inspiration. I do it to my least favorite teachers sometimes. And to our garbageman. He always leaves the cans lying halfway down the road. And I always want to Punjab him for it. I love your title for the story! It's better than mine. I think I'll use it. Who knows? Lol. Thanks for reviewing! Hope you like the story! I'll be sure and leave as many updates as I can for you so you won't be disappointed!

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I stood completely still and stared down at my fingers, which were still hovering over the harp.

_Touch that harp and you'll be dead before you turn around._

The words echoed in my ears. I stood there, shocked and slightly afraid. The voice sounded the same as that of the guy I had met my first time down here, but it couldn't be. He was kind and sweet, not to mention lonely. He wouldn't say something like that.

It must be a different voice, a different guy.

Realization struck me. At the same time, something the boy had once told me rang through my mind. _'He'll be angry if you touch his harp. He's always angry when someone touches his harp.'_

This wasn't my Phantom of the Fox.

It was _him._

And from the sound of his voice, laced with hidden threats and a dark warning of danger, I could tell that he was seriously pissed off. From what I'd heard from the boy I met, a pissed off _him _was not a good thing to run in to.

Very, very slowly, I turned around, almost afraid of what I might find. Was this the real Phantom of the Fox, while the boy I had met before was just a reflection of the Persian? What would I find lurking behind me? I had asked over and over about 'him', but never had the young boy given me a description. How would I even know him if I saw him?

With these thoughts racing through my head, I laid my eyes on the person who had snuck up on me.

My eyes widened.

_What? _

Standing right behind me was the same boy I had met the last time I had been here. No kidding. He was just standing there as though nothing was wrong, as though he didn't find it weird that he was threatening to kill me for touching an instrument after being so nice to me before.

"Um… hi?" I said hesitantly, wondering if this was some kind of joke.

His eyes hardened. I could immediately tell that I wasn't talking to the same person as before. He stood straighter and had more pride and disdain in his glare. His eyes were ice-cold, even though they were the same color as before. His fists were clenched and he seriously did look like he wanted nothing more than to wring my neck with his bare hands. Forget the lasso.

When he didn't answer me, I felt the nervousness in my stomach build. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked quietly, referring to his angry, fiery glare that burned into my frightened eyes.

"You are an intruder," he growled – like, literally growled. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I felt an overwhelming urge to flee from that basement as quickly as my legs could carry me. I still had a feeling he'd catch up. "What am I supposed to do, smile at you?"

_Okay, this definitely isn't the person I met down here before. They must be twins. Yeah, that's it._

"Hey," I said carefully, "is your brother around? I want to talk to him."

He narrowed his eyes. "I have no family. I live alone."

"No," I protested. I was so adamant about finding that nice young boy, the one I _knew _existed, that I didn't stop to think that maybe arguing wasn't the best idea. "I came here a week ago and he found me, right here, just like you did. I talked to him."

"I have no family," he repeated, looking furious that I dared talk back to him.

I wouldn't let myself be intimidated. "I know he's down here, and I want to talk to him!"

"There is no one else here," the strange young man said, his voice quaking with the weight of his anger. "So stop acting like a madman and leave my home, right now, or I'll throw you out myself!"

I spun on my heel and marched away. However, instead of going back out through the trapdoor, I crossed the room and started for the many doors I saw lining the walls. I knew that the boy I had met was down here, and nothing this creep could say was going to stop me from finding him. I had waited far too long for this opportunity just to waste it now.

I yanked on the first door. It swung open to show me a closet full of simple tools – a shovel, an iron, other random household items. I swung the door shut again and moved on.

The next was a bare room with a single bed in one corner and a sink in the other. It was old and dusty, but I could tell it was well-used. One of the boys spent his nights in here. But was it the kind boy I knew, or the cold one that still stood outside.

I suddenly heard his laughter. It was dark and cold, reminding me of the Phantom's when he was angry. But I had never been afraid of the Phantom. I knew some beauty lurked underneath, even when he was yelling his heart out at Christine, maskless. With this boy… I wasn't sure. He could be a cold-hearted murderer, through and through, and I wouldn't have any way of knowing.

I stalked back out into the hallway and glared down into the harp room. The boy was leaning against the wall next to the instrument, gazing at me with amusement in his eyes. It was the sort of amusement that plainly said, 'I know something you don't, and I'm laughing at your ignorance.'

"What?" I snapped, thoroughly confused and angry.

He slowly shook his head at me, seeming to finally realize why I was here and refusing to leave. "You're looking for _him_, aren't you?" he asked, his eyes glittering with a mixture of mirth and disgust.

I groaned. _Him _again. "I thought you were him."

He laughed darkly again and shook his head at me. "I am."

I stood there, staring at him, waiting for an explanation.

He didn't move away from the wall, but crossed his arms. "How much about this place did he tell you, girl?" His voice told me what he expected my answer to be, and as much as I hated to admit it, he was right. _Not enough._

I was silent. He already knew what I was going to say, after all.

"You're lucky you met him and not me. If you had, you never would have come back at all." His eyes flashed. "In fact, you might not have ever even come out in the first place. That would have made things much easier."

"You're sick," I said in disgust.

He didn't reply to my statement, but continued to speak nevertheless. "He didn't tell you who I am, did he?"

I hesitated. "He told me you lived down here with him, and that the harp was yours. He said that you went up into the theater to watch the shows, and that sometimes you'd let him watch with you. I think… I got the impression he's afraid of you."

"He has no reason to be," he said with a slight shrug. "I can't hurt him."

I was even more confused. "You can't?"

He answered me with another question. "You really don't understand, do you?"

"Would you quit rubbing that in and explain it, then?" I shot back, frustrated.

I could tell he was a little taken aback by how unafraid I was. I wasn't about to tell him that I was still wary of him, but at the moment, my anger and confusion outweighed my fear.

"I have no twin brother," the guy said. It was annoying, how he wouldn't just come out and say it like it was. "There is no one else living in these basements with me. You have to understand that before you can understand what's going on, kid."

"Don't call me that," I said shortly. He was only a few years older than me, by the look of him. "And what do you mean, there's no one else? You were just talking about him a minute ago."

"Yes, I was."

"Then there is someone else."

"Yes, but not in the sense that you are trying to imply."

I stared at him. "Huh?"

He snorted. I admit, that wasn't a very eloquent reponse, but still… given the circumstances, it was as good as he'd get from me. "It's true, he's down here a lot," the guy said, looking resentful. "I wish there was some way I could get rid of him, but I can't control it. Never could."

"Dude," I interrupted, "just say what you're trying to say. One sentence. It can't be that hard."

"I could," he said with a shrug, "but I like to see you tortured by an answer you can't guess."

I wanted to scream at him, but I knew that wouldn't make him tell me the answer. More likely than not, he'd just stand there and watch me, laughing all the while. He really was infuriating.

"Let me talk to him."

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"I would if you'd tell me!"

"He isn't here," he said in a firm voice, and I knew he wasn't lying. "You can check all the rooms, all the hallways, the entire theater. You won't find him. Take my word for it."

"Why?" I pressed.

"Because I'm here."

"Oh, so he _is _afraid of you," I guessed. "And since you're here, he won't come down. Is that what you mean? So when you go away, he'll show up?"

"Yes," he said, and I swelled with pride at knowing the answer – "and no."

I deflated. "What do you mean, yes _and _no?"

"He may be afraid of me," the young man said with a slight shrug. "I wouldn't know. I've never spoken with him face to face. But when I go away, as sure as anything, he'll show up."

"Go away," I said, "as in leave the theater?"

"I never leave the theater."

"Then what do you mean, he'll show up when you go away?"

"Exactly what I said."

"Does he leave the theater?"

"No."

"Agh!" I couldn't hold back my scream of frustration. "You're not making any sense!"

"You're just not understanding."

"Then explain!"

"Figure it out." He marched up to me and seized my forearm, making no effort to be gentle. I yelped as he yanked me through the harp room and back to the crack-torch room. "And while you're at it, get out. And don't bother coming back. There's a fifty-fifty chance it'll be me you'll meet down here next time, and you don't want to risk me getting mad at you a second time."

I yanked my arm free and saw a bruise start to rise. I raised my furious eyes to his. "Oh, really?"

His eyes shut me up. They blazed with such intense fire that I didn't even need him to speak to understand his answer. I was suddenly aware that I was dealing with real danger here – this was a person who wouldn't have any qualms about killing me. He'd already threatened to once, for Pete's sake.

"I still don't understand," I complained as he dragged a piece of wood out from a corner of the room and dropped it under the trapdoor.

"Like I said," he retorted, shoving me towards it, "figure it out."

I turned my back on him, stepped onto the wooden block, and managed to hook my arms over the edge of the trapdoor. I hesitated, wondering whether I dared risk it, but then I made my mind up. As payback for how aggravating he had been, I kicked out and felt my shoe connnect with the side of his face. I quickly scrambled up over the edge of the trapdoor and swung it shut, but not before his voice drifted up from the room below and reached my ears.

"You'll pay for that, kid."

I turned and ran.

My mind was still trying to figure out the incredibly confusing mystery that had presented itself to me. Well, it hadn't presented itself – that JERK had presented it to me. Honestly, even Jill had never been that insufferable.

I slowed down when I neared the theater. The musical had started up again, I could tell.

I crept into the theater, past the cranky old usher, and managed to slink back into my seat without too many people noticing my late entrance. My parents gave me disapproving looks, but didn't speak. They were used to my tardiness and tired of berating me for it.

Jill noticed me and whispered, "Where were you? Look, Roger changed clothes – he's got a silver shirt now, with a leather bomber jacket! Isn't that awesome?" she turned back and started to hum along with Roger as he sang. I didn't even listen to her. I didn't listen to Roger, either.

I stared into space and tried to organize my thoughts.

It was no use. They were chasing one another around my head like little Golden Snitches. They drifted until I found myself imagining the room with all the flying keys in Harry Potter, where he's trying to find the right key. Then I imagined the Phantom in his place.

_Swish_. The Punjab lashed out. The right key was caught in an instant. The broomstick sat by the door, unused and unneeded, alone. The Phantom held the key tightly in his gloved hand and looked down at it.

"Hand at the level of your eyes," he said grandly, and unlocked the door.

I blinked out of my daydream and snorted at myself. _Keys don't have hands or eyes, idiot._

My mind argued with itself again. _All the better to lasso them, of course._

As Roger's character burst into song again and Jill squealed softly in delight, I turned my attention back to the play. There was nothing I could do about my situation right now. I wouldn't get any thinking done in this crowded theater with awesome music pounding in my ears. I'd wait until I got home to try and figure this all out.

I did my best to enjoy the rest of the musical. When it ended, I got up with everyone else and started to leave. Jill was gushing about Roger and I wasn't really paying her any attention. She got in line for the bathroom and I followed her, still in a daze.

She looked at me strangely. "Why are you in line? You just went to the bathroom during intermission, remember? And you were late because of it."

"Oh," I said vaguely, nodding. "Right." And I walked away.

My eyes drifted to the dark corner of the room. Just down that corridor and to the right was the hall that would lead me to the trapdoor. I was so close. I could just run down there, visit the strange room one last time, and be back before Jill got out of the bathroom. What did I have to lose?

I could figure out this whole mystery.

But was it worth it? After all, the guy I had just met would be furious to see me back so soon – and like he had warned, I may not make it out alive this time. I bit my lip. Big words for a kid who was just a couple years older than me. Could he really go through with it?

_If I don't risk it and go down there now, _I told myself firmly, _I will regret it. I won't be coming back here anytime soon. I got lucky just coming twice in the same month. Chances are I won't get to come back for years. _

I made up my mind.

The dark hallway enveloped me like the arms of a mother that has been waiting for her child to return. I breathed in its familiarity and relaxed a little. Maybe the guy would be gone and I could talk to the nice boy. Maybe.

That 'maybe' kept me going. It danced in front of me and led me down the dark hallway to the trapdoor. It frolicked around me as I stood there, trembling with hesitation, and it was thanks to that 'maybe' that I finally knelt, gripped the handle, and pried the trapdoor open with a burst of determination. I was going to solve this weird, deranged mystery, and no creepy teenage kid living under the Fox was going to stop me.

I dropped into the crack-torch room.

And came face to face with him again.

I flinched, but when he reached out to steady me, I realized that I had found the kind boy, not the angry, cold one. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Where were you?" I demanded, staring at him. He was looking at me in shock. "I just met _him_, and he said you weren't here – he said some really insane stuff―"

The words died in my mouth.

The boy's eyes had widened when he heard that I had met 'him'. He gripped my shoulders, surprised and horrified, and leaned towards me ever so slightly. It was enough. The light of the nearest crack-torch illuminated his face, both sides of it, leaving no shadows to fool my eyes.

Right there, on the side of his cheek, was a yellowish bruise.

It was round. It had a faint zig-zag pattern to it. It was fresh and obviously painful.

I stared at it and tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. They still lay on my tongue, refusing to budge, and I gave up all hope of speech altogether. There were no words that could describe how shocked I was.

The bruise was in the shape of the toe of my shoe.

The pattern was the same as the zig-zags on the sole.

I had kicked the angry, cold boy not an hour ago.

And now the nice boy had the same bruise.

They weren't twins.

The wooden block was still there. I leaped on it, made a wild jump for the trapdoor, pulled myself out, and slammed it shut behind me. I was gone in an instant. I could hear my foosteps echo through the deserted hallway, and I ran faster, trying to escape them. My mind was shooting along the hallway at speeds faster than I could ever outrun.

They weren't twins.

I burst back out into the lobby and tried to stop my heart from racing. I walked up to the entrance and stood a few feet away from my parents. Jill joined us a moment later and we went outside, starting the long walk towards the car. I don't remember the walk. I was racing through thought after thought, a mile a minute, and not even a meteor striking the ground an inch away from my face would have brought me out of the state of shock I was in.

They weren't twins.

They were the same person.


	7. Birthday Presents

**I'm so sorry that this took so long! I've been busy with swim team and work. I just spent six hours cleaning, and I was so exhausted afterwards that I didn't have enough energy to do anything but write. **

**So… here it is!**

**MonMaskedAnge: I guess it could be Erik incarnate, if you want to see it that way. I wasn't planning it. You're right, the death threats make it sound like him! Yeah, and Alex would've asked the good guy about a way in, but we all know she's a little spacey (like me!). Thanks for reviewing!**

**I'llTryMyBestToBeGlindaTheGood: Sorry I took so long to update. I'll try harder next time!**

**Dani Blues: Hehe… don't Punjab me! I just love doing cliffies. **

**Mrs. Gerard Butler: Yep, he's schizo. I hope you like the story, and thanks so much for reviewing!**

**kissbangx3:** **Yeah, I updated twice… hehe… I'm awesome!**

**anonymous: Thanks for reading. I know what you mean, with not being able to explain things. I really, _really _want to go see the musical! I think I'd probably hide under a seat so and live in the theater so that I could see it again the next time for free. Even a hot usher couldn't get me out of there.**

**Fate's Dice Kyre: Thanks for the advice. I agree, the Fox really is beautiful… I'm glad you like!**

**starseven: Yes, let's not find out. Thanks for reviewing. I'm glad you like it!

* * *

**

The entire car ride home, I was staring out the window, watching the cars whiz by. The same thought was running through my mind, over and over, without fail. Every time I tried to shove it away, it returned, like a fly that buzzes by your ear and won't be swatted, no matter how hard you try.

_How?_

How could this be happening? I had gone underneath the Fox and found a sweet and charming young man, living underneath the ground, lonely and afraid. I come back to find that he's changed into a cold, evil being with a mind to kill me. What had gone wrong? How could this be happening?

I had heard of people with split personalities, but I would never have expected it in that boy. Turns out I was wrong. Dead wrong. And I'd never felt so horrible about being wrong before.

Why couldn't any story stay simple? Why did they have to get so complicated?

I mean, _split personalities?_ How much does that suck?

I guess now I understand why he lives underneath the Fox. I mean, it would just be too weird to wake up and be a completely different person. Imagine being a mother and tucking in a sweet little angel into bed and kissing him goodnight, and then coming in the next morning and finding a devil lying in wait. His parents had probably freaked and kicked him out of the house or something.

At this, I clenched my jaw. Even with a son like that, how could they?

Then again, what with how shocked and afraid I had been, I had no right to criticize them. Still, their own son…

"Hell-_o?_"

I turned and looked at Jill. "Yeah?"

"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

I was reminded of the cold-hearted version of the Phantom of the Fox. I shook my head and sighed heavily. "Sorry. What were you saying? Something about Roger?" I took a random stab at the topic of the conversation that had been going on without me.

My guess was dead-on.

"Yes!" she grinned. "Wasn't he the coolest? And his plaid pants! Man, I want them. You know what? When I get home, I'm going to make a slideshow of pictures of him and Charlie! Like a collage, you know? Ooh, and I can put it to the tune of a Rent song! Yes! I'm so awesome!"

I stopped paying attention.

My mind wandered back to the Fox. Or, more specifically, to the two occupants living underneath. No – the _one _occupant, the one with multiple personalities. I still wasn't used to the idea.

_This **is** like the Phantom of the Opera, _I thought to myself. _He's deformed, too, except not in the same way – he's got a mental problem. I think it's even worse. I mean, you can get over somebody's face, but it'd be a lot harder to go to sleep not knowing whether your husband was going to hug you or kill you in the morning. _

We pulled up into our driveway and went inside the house. Mom and Dad were doing their best to humor Jill's ravings while actually ignoring her, and I wasn't even trying to pretend that I was paying attention. I walked upstairs, went into my room, and shut the door.

Only when my father called upstairs that it was time for pizza and ice cream did I emerge.

* * *

The next few weeks, I tried to forget about the whole thing. I went to school, I watched tv, I hung out with my friends, I did everything a normal teenager should. I put the Fox and its phantoms out of my mind.

After all, why should I worry about it? It was insanely lucky to get to go to the Fox twice in the same week, even the same month. It was just about impossible to get to go three times. I mean, there was hardly a chance in the world. It would have been unbelievable. And frankly, I wasn't sure I wanted it.

I admit, I wanted to see the nice boy again and apologize for kicking him in the face, even if I was actually kicking his other personality. But what if I ran into the evil Phantom of the Fox? He had threatened to kill me if I came back.

That would suck. And I didn't know if I'd have the guts to risk it.

So I laughed and chatted with Jenny and Paul, who either didn't notice that anything was wrong or pretended not to notice. I paid attention in English class and aced my test on comma splices. (Hah.)

Pretty soon, my birthday came around.

I woke up that Saturday morning and lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling and smiling. Today would be a good day. I could forget about the Fox entirely. Jenny and I were going to watch Phantom of the Opera – probably at least three times – and we'd managed to convince Paul to watch with us. Then my family and I were going out for dinner.

I got out of bed, threw on some clothes, and went downstairs. My mom had already made me breakfast, French toast with syrup and bacon. Mmm, I love bacon. I was greeted with enthusiastic cries of "Happy birthday, Alex!" as I sat down and dug in.

"Thanks, guys," I mumbled, speaking around a mouthful of toast.

Jill sat down next to me and handed me a present. I hesitated, putting my fork down. "Please tell me you didn't track down Roger, steal his plaid pants, and gift-wrap them for me for my birthday."

She snorted. "Are you kidding? You think if I got his plaid pants I'd give them to anybody?"

I laughed. "I guess not." I unwrapped it. It was a long, rectangular box. I used my knife to open one end and carefully dumped the present out into my hand. It was a poster. My eyes grew wide as I unrolled it and held it up in front of me.

It was a huge, brilliant picture of the Phantom of the Opera, staring out at me from those _gorgeous_ eyes of his. Gerard Butler's voice may be just okay, but he made almost the perfect appearance, in my opinion.

I just about died from happiness. "You rock!" I told Jill, who grinned.

"Of course I do." Her eyes glinted. "You know what this means, though, don't you?"

I grimaced. "What?"

"Now you have to burn that picture of me drooling."

"No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do!"

"It's my birthday. I don't _have _to do anything!"

"Alex!"

I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Jill, stop pestering your sister," my mom said distractedly, sitting down to her own breakfast. "When it's your birthday, you can order her around."

Jill's eyes flashed dangerously at me. "I'll be waiting for that."

I laughed nervously. "Um… okay."

When I had finished my breakfast, I took my precious poster into my room and hung it up on the wall over my bed so that I could stare at my beloved Phantom every night before I went to sleep.

The doorbell rang.

"Crap, it's later than I thought!" I muttered to myself. It was almost noon and I had completely forgotten that people were coming over. "That must be Jenny and Paul."

Jill got to the door first and opened it while I was still upstairs. Jenny was standing there. The instant the door opened, she yelled, "Happy birthday!" at the top of her lungs.

Jill blinked.

Jenny suddenly realized that the person she was congratulating wasn't me. "Oh," she said sheepishly. "Sorry, Jill!"

Jill groaned and rubbed her pinkie in her ear. "I think I'm deaf."

I walked down the stairs. "Hey, Jenny."

"Happy birthday!" she yelled again.

Jill groaned and stumbled up the stairs to her room, clutching her head. Jenny chuckled. "She's always so melodramatic. In a funny way, though." She brightened. "Let's start watching! I don't want to waste a single minute of movie time!"

"What about your beloved?" I joked, letting her in and closing the door behind her. "Shouldn't we wait for Paul to show up?"

"Oh, he won't care, it's just the very beginning," she said with a wave. "Besides, this way we can sit so that he has to sit next to me! Hahaha!" She turned to grin at me. "See all the wonderfully evil things you can accomplish by being early? You should try it some time."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, let's go start."

"I'll give you your present while we watch," she said eagerly, skipping into the living room. "We can do it during the part where Raoul's flirting with Christine in her dressing room, since nobody cares about that stupid fop anyways."

I laughed and followed her to the couch. We sat down and turned the television on – the movie was already in. I had watched it twice the day before. I don't think a single week has ever gone by where I didn't watch it at least twice. Except for once while we were on vacation, but I listened to the soundtrack six times on my iPod, so that at least counts for something.

We started the movie. Paul came in just at the part where the chandelier is lifted and everything goes from black and white to color. Jill answered the door, knowing we were too lazy to bother, and let him in. He crept in as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb the mood.

Paul was awesome. He was one of very few guys who would watch the movie over and over with us. He didn't mind us gushing over the Phantom. I secretly think he was ogling Meg the whole time.

When the Raoul part came on, while he was inviting Christine to dinner in her dressing room, Jenny wrinkled her nose at the fop and turned to me. "Here." She handed me my present.

It was a collection of drawings, all of the Phantom, Christine, and Raoul dying in various ways.

"Dude," I said, staring at them. Not only is Jenny a really fast reader, she's a great artist. These were amazing. My favorites were the collection where Raoul was being murdered. There was, of course, the traditional Phantom-with-a-Punjab that was sneering and saying, "You should have kept your hands at the level of your eyes, fop."

Then there was one with Raoul being impaled by the Phantom's sword. Then one with Raoul being eaten by a hippogriff. Then one where Raoul was daydreaming about Christine and there was a group of rabid fangirls gathered behind him with various insane weapons.

I stared at Jenny. "You went a little overboard, don't you think?"

She shrugged. "It was fun. If you keep going, there's one where he spontaneously combusts."

I paled as I looked at it. "_Dude._"

She chuckled. "That was the funnest." Her attention turned back to the screen. "Hang on, the Phantom's back on! This is the best part! Shhhh!" We all quieted and watched the movie.

Unfortunately, we didn't get through watching it twice. At the Raoul/Christine rooftop scene the second time, we were called into the kitchen for lunch. We settled down around the table and chatted happily as we ate. At one point, the subject of Raoul came up.

After a few minutes of intense bashing from me and Jenny, during which my parents watched us with very afraid stares and Jill just shook her head, used to it by then.

Finally, when we had to pause for breath, Paul spoke up. "You know," he said, putting his fork down for a second and looking up at us, "Raoul isn't really that bad."

There was complete silence as Jenny and I stared at him, betrayal in our eyes.

"How – could – you?" Jenny whispered.

Paul looked between the two of us nervously and tried to defend himself. "I mean – you know, if the Phantom wasn't in the story, if he didn't exist, and it was just a love story between Christine and Raoul, you guys would probably be gushing over him instead―"

Jenny and I simultaneously reached for our knives.

Paul shrank back. "Eheh… just kidding…?"

We glared at him and went back to our lunches. He shuddered and muttered under his breath to Jill, "They're completely insane. Is Alex like this all the time?"

"I heard that," I said through a mouthful of orange.

Jill looked up at Paul and pointed her fork at him. "Watch who you're calling insane. I did the same thing yesterday when Alex tried to insult Charlie. And my knife was bigger."

Paul inched away from her.

My mother tried to distract us insane people from our knife-themed threats with a present. "Alex, would you like your biggest present now, or at dinner?"

"Now," Jenny mouthed. She wanted to see what it was before she had to go.

"Now, I guess," I said, and she beamed at me.

I was handed a small box, about the size of a paperback book, but too light. I tried to guess what it might be, but since I knew from past experience that I was never right, I chose to just go ahead and open it. Sure enough, under the colorful wrapping paper was a plain white box.

"If this is underwear," I stated, "I'm going to kill you."

Jill chuckled. "Just open it."

I did.

You'll never believe what it was. Actually, you've probably already figured it out, but _I _would never have guessed it. I stared down at the box. I think my mouth was probably hanging open. I might have even been drooling. I seriously don't remember. All my attention was fixed solely on the little piece of paper sitting innocently in the box.

A ticket.

I didn't even notice what the show was, or when. I was too occupied with _where _it was.

You guessed it.

The Fox.


	8. Back Yet Again

**I'm so sorry that took so long! I was at my friend's lake house for the 4th of July and didn't have my computer. I'm actually on the road to Florida now, while I'm typing, so I have no internet connection, but I'll post as soon as I get to the hotel. They better have wifi. Or I will Punjab them. I'll use a phone cord if I have to.**

**Anyway… sorry about the excess of rambling in this chapter. I was listening to music while I wrote, and I was kinda spacing out. Sorry about that.**

**kissbangx3: I'm trying to make my chapters longer. Your Lost chapters are still _really _long, though. I don't think I can beat those. Thanks for being a consistent reviewer! You rock!**

**I'llTryMyBestToBeGlindaTheGood: Man, your name takes a long time to type. It's cool, though. You get to visit the schizo Phantom again in this chapter. I love him, too! Hope you like the story. Sorry for keeping you waiting, and thanks for sticking with it!**

**Mrs. Gerard Butler: I love that you include your favorite lines. Helps me know what people like. Hehe, I love pizza and ice cream! And coca-cola. Mmm… Ha, and the bashing is actually kinda realistic, I do that in real life – but my parents are used to it, and they bash right along with me! I agree with you, in that I have a severe dislike for Christine (who could deny the Phantom? What sane person is that dumb?). But I can't tolerate Raoul, either. I mean, he's not a bad person, but _he's such a FOP! _Anyway, thanks for reviewing. Luv ya!**

**starseven: Jill would kill you.**

**Dani Blues: Glad you like! (I do, too. Hehe.) Sorry to make you wait so long for this chapter!**

**fresh air9: I know what you mean. I did make it a little obvious, and an intelligent person could have figured it out fairly easily. I appreciate you noting this, and thanks for reading despite the corniness at parts!**

**opera ghost's pokemon: You're right, he does remind me a little of them, now that you mention it. I'm glad you like the story! Thanks so much for reviewing!**

**Okay (finally!) I'm going to start the story. Hope everybody likes it!

* * *

**

"Dude."

"No way."

"That is so cool!"

"Alex, that's so not fair! You get to go to the Fox _again_? That makes three times!"

"Seriously, Alex, that's pretty cool. You're lucky."

"Yeah, take us with you! Please?"

"You better be happy. Now I expect something big from you guys for my birthday."

"Come on, Jill, be nice, this is a big occasion!"

"Yes, honey, we'll get you something nice for your birthday, too, don't worry."

"Charlie Pace?"

"Well… maybe something a little less imaginary, dear."

"Aww…"

"Oh, man, what're the odds, you know? Three times in, like, a month!"

"Yeah, you're really lucky, Alex."

"Alex?"

"Hey, you okay?"

"What's up? You're all pale."

"Yeah, say something, Alex."

"Hell-_o_?"

I blinked as Jill's hand came within a centimeter of hitting my nose. "I'm good," I said dazedly, looking up at them all. "Just… surprised." _And very, very, **very **freaked out. _

Looking back, I don't really remember why I was so freaked out. I mean, it wasn't like I was going to go back down into the freaky underground lair looking for trouble. I'd just stay up in the theater and watch the show like a normal person. Everything would be great. It would be fun.

I guess it was just the idea that really scared me. I mean, _nobody _gets to go to the Fox that many times, completely by accident, in such a short amount of time. Nobody who's not rich or famous, I mean. Things like this don't normally happen to people like me. Before POTO, I'd never even been before in my life… and now this? It was like some unknown force kept pushing me to go back. And thanks to what I knew about a certain area beneath the theater and the two – no, the one very disturbed – occupant living down there, I wasn't particularly eager to go back.

Of course, I couldn't tell everyone else this. They'd think I was insane, and they'd be hurt that I didn't want this present.

So I plastered on a fake smile, pretended to be stunned and delighted (the stunned part was easy; the delighted part was a complete and utter lie), and did my best not to show any hint of the panic that was rising inside of me.

_Freak out later. Enjoy the birthday now_, I told myself.

It didn't work. I went through dinner in a daze. Everyone noticed, but they just shrugged it off as me being caught off guard with the Fox tickets. They weren't wrong, but they also weren't seeing the whole picture.

While I ate, I tried to figure out how to get myself out of this mess.

The thing was, we were going in two days, so I couldn't become mysteriously sick all of a sudden. It would seem suspicious if it wasn't over a longer period of time.

I couldn't tell them flat-out that I didn't want to go. That would just be mean. After all, they'd gone to the trouble of getting the tickets for me.

I couldn't – wouldn't – _refused _to tell them the truth. It was my birthday. I didn't want it to end with me in an insane asylum and the nice half of the boy ratted out, discovered, and stuck in there with me for his split personalities (that is, if anyone took my story seriously enough to look for him). Personally, I could care less what happened to the rotten half, but at the risk of hurting the good half, I wouldn't wish it on him, either. They seemed happy enough where they were.

So… what to do?

Of course, the answer was obvious. Just go to the Fox, but don't go underneath it. Don't seek them out. Pretend they don't exist. Pretend I'm just a normal person seeing a play and leaving. Pretend I don't know about the (quite attractive) schizo living beneath my feet.

It sounded easy, but I had a really bad feeling about it…

…

The day finally came, after what felt like an eternity of me worrying. I woke up with a really, really sick feeling in my stomach, but I was determined not to back out. It would be fine.

I told myself that over and over on the way there. _It'll be fine._

Fine. Such a false word.

No – think positive thoughts.

_It'll be fine._

We got our seats. The usher this time was an old man, so old he could have been my great-grandfather. He kind of grunted in the direction of our seats. That doesn't sound possible, but if you'd been there, you'd know what I mean. It was weird.

I was on the end of the row because Jill wouldn't sit there. The person in front of her was too tall, and she always refused to sit somewhere if the person in front of her was tall. So I get stuck in her seat. Of course, that doesn't really make sense, because I'm the shortest person in the family, which means I shouldn't have to sit in her seat, but oh well.

The show started. I tried to enjoy it, I really did, and I tried to ignore all the towers, but once in a while I caught myself looking for the Phantom of the Fox. I just _couldn't help it_. If you were in the Paris opera house, wouldn't you be tempted to look at Box Five?

Intermission came. I resisted the (very small) urge to venture down the back hallway and instead got myself a drink and stuck close to Jill, who looked a little surprised at the attention, though pleased.

Everything was going great…

And then I heard it.

A whisper.

I must've jumped a full foot into the air. Jill looked at me weird, but went back to her drink. At the rate she was sucking it up, it'd be gone before the intermission was even over.

Right – the voice. Sorry. Got sidetracked.

Jill didn't seem to have heard it, and neither did anyone else close by, so I just pretended that I hadn't heard it, either. Still, a little voice in the back of my mind knew that it had to be the Phantom.

It came again.

I couldn't hear what it was saying, but I just _knew _it was aimed at me, the same way the usher's grunt was aimed at our seats. I mean, I was the only one to hear it, right? So it had to be aimed at me. Jill still didn't give any sign that she heard a thing, which really confused me.

It came again, and this time it was as though the person was right next to me, it was so clear. It was like those tricks that the Phantom (the Erik Phantom, I mean) always used to pull, projecting his voice so that it sounded right next to you or in the next room.

"Hey," it said.

Okay, so Erik never said 'hey,' but it was still cool.

I swallowed and did my best to ignore it. "Let's go," I said to Jill, wanting to get out of there, but she shook her head and continued sipping her drink. I swear, it was already halfway gone, she was draining it away so―

Right. The voice. Man, I suck at telling a straight story.

"Hey," it whispered again, "can you hear me?"

I gritted my teeth and was silent.

"Look, I'm sorry about last time. Will you come down and talk to me?" The guy just wouldn't shut up, for Pete's sake.

But I noticed that the voice was that of the good half. The bad half would never apologize. That made me a little less afraid. I mean, the good half had never been anything but nice to me. Still, where he was, the bad half wasn't far away. I didn't even know if you had to knock him unconscious to switch him, or if he could switch himself whenever he decided to.

I thought about it. I mean, the good guy wasn't going to hurt me, but I still _really _didn't want to run into the bad half… and the double-personalities thing kinda scared me…

I blinked in surprise as a thought occurred to me. Well, occurred isn't really the right word. It sorta slammed into my mind like a train. _If I start avoiding this guy because I'm freaked out by the split personalities, that makes me no better than Christine._

That thought alone was enough to make me turn right around and say to the voice, "I'll be there in a minute."

There was no _way _I was going to play Christine to this Phantom.

No way. It was no wonder the guy was stuck under a theater – his parents probably got freaked out by the whole good-bad complex and threw him out, and then the world shunned him. I was not going to do the same. If I had to play nice to his bad side and suck up to him, fine, but the guy wanted some company, and for Pete's sake, he was going to get it.

Hm. Who's Pete? I've always wondered that. Maybe it's some biblical figure. Or some random hobo on the street who died, or something, and one of his friends said, "Blablabla, for Pete's sake!" and people picked up on it because it was catchy.

Yeah, I'm sure that's it.

Man, I ramble a lot. I should really stop doing that. Where was I?

The Fox. The Phantom(s). Not being Christine. Right.

I gave Jill the slip (and that was a lot harder than it sounds) and hurried away down the passage. All of a sudden, my worries were gone, replaced by excitement. I was still a little afraid, but at that point, my resolve to befriend the guy was so strong that I shrugged off the fear.

Hah, that makes me sound all courageous and stuff. I'm actually not. My hands were shaking when I opened the trapdoor.

The Phantom (I really have to give him a name) was waiting for me. He looked anxious, as though he wasn't sure what kind of welcome he would get. After all, the last time I saw him, I ran away and left him with a footprint on his face. (Heh. I kinda regret that now. The evil side will _really _hate me.)

"Hi," he said hesitantly.

I smiled and dropped into the room, thankful that I was wearing pants so my skirt wouldn't fly up. "Hi." I noticed that the bruise from my shoe was basically gone and nodded to it. "Sorry about that."

He smiled shyly and shrugged one shoulder. "It's all right. He probably deserved it."

"Listen," I said to him, "I can't stick around long. My family's waiting upstairs, and I'm already probably late. I'm really sorry. I mean, I'd like to stay a while, but intermission's only so long."

The guy looked so depressed that I was leaving. It was adorable! So I quickly said: "Uh, is there a back way in? You know, where I don't have to actually come into the theater through the front doors? I want to come back some other time, but I can't pay to get into the Fox every time I want to see you."

This made him so happy – the idea that someone _wanted _to see him – that he beamed at me. I mean, he was seriously beaming. I could almost see light rays shooting off him.

"Sure," he said, and led me out of the room.

For once, I shoved my curiosity down and didn't try to touch the harp. I followed him down the long hallway and he opened one of the doors with a key from his pocket. Honestly, he was the only one down here – why did he need to lock the doors?

Well, for people like me, I guess. That makes me sound nosy, though.

Anyway (the rambling again! gah!), the room had another door on the other side, but it was unlocked. He opened it carefully, sticking his head out to look outside before swinging it all the way open. It opened into an alley, a dark alley, but I could see through to the street, and I recognized the parking deck where our car was. "I know where we are!" I said, excited.

He nodded and shut the door again. I followed him back through the place to the room with the crack-torches and the trapdoor. He offered me a hand up, and I took it, pulling myself back up and out. I leaned back over the door and said, "Goodbye! I'll try and come back soon!"

"You promise?" he said, looking up at me.

I smiled. "Yeah, I promise."

He smiled back up at me. I waved and shut the trapdoor behind me before turning and dashing back down the hall as fast as I could, knowing that I was going to get chastised for being late yet again.

But I didn't really care. I was really, really happy, and I didn't even really know why. I guess because I had seen the Phantom, and it had all turned out okay. More than okay – I didn't have to come back to the Fox to see him anymore. Well, I at least didn't have to pay for a ticket.

Hey, awesome! That meant I could sneak peeks at shows without paying for it!

Eheh, I mean, I would never do something so immoral… cough, cough… never…

Anyway, to get back to the point… well, actually I'm out of points to make. I'm not really good with points. I always forget what I'm going to say.

I guess the point is that I was happy. I couldn't stop grinning the whole way back up to my seat.

Jill gave me a weird look when I sat down again, partially for sneaking off on her during intermission, partially for grinning like a loon. I didn't care. I had a Phantom buddy, and she didn't. She could keep Charlie any day of the week.

I had a Phantom all to myself.

Who could ever be happier?

* * *

(Don't actually answer that question.) 


	9. Shopping!

**Sorry for the delay, I was stuck at home with some kind of stomach virus. I felt awful. But it's going away (yay!) so I sat down to watch my sister play video games while I wrote the next chapter. I hope everyone likes it!**

**And I'm sorry that it's so short. My mind is not being the most dependable organ today. It and my stomach are rebelling against me. It's very exhausting. The next one will be cooler, I promise!**

**Glinda: Yeah, the nickname makes things much easier! I'm so glad you like what I've written, and thanks for being such a loyal reviewer! I love you!**

**Kyre Alder: Thanks so much for your review! My sister liked that line, too. And I love writing in first person, although this is the first time I've done it. It's easier to write.**

**Dani Blues: Two words: YOU ROCK!**

**MonMaskedAnge: You're right about the ramblings, and I've tried to stop drifting off, but it's a little hard because I do the same thing! Anyway, this chapter's got less rambling, and I really hope you like it! Thanks for reviewing!**

**Mrs. Gerard Butler: Your lists of favorite lines are awesome. It helps me know what people like about the story. I hope there are a few lines that you like in this chapter, too! **

**kissbangx3: I don't know whether he's ever going to change mid-visit, I haven't decided yet. It would be cool, though, and I think he will. Not in this chappie, though. He's not even in it. I'm so sorry I haven't reviewed your story in forever… you know me…**

**Snape's Opera Rose: Love the screenname. Thanks so much for your praise! It really means a lot to me, you have no idea. **

**fresh air9: You never know which side she'll meet… (mwahaha!) Anyway, thanks for your review, and I'm glad you like it! You reviewers rock!**

**Phantom mega Phan: I forgive you for not reviewing – my summer's been busy, too! I can't believe school starts this week for you. It's a reminder that the summer is almost gone… well, I hope you get time during the school year to review, and if you don't, don't worry about it! You rock forever anyways!**

**Thanks to all of you!**

**Now, on with the story!

* * *

**

It was almost a week before I could come up with a plausible reason to return to the Fox and put it in action. The solution: shopping. After all, what sane girl wouldn't want to go shopping in the heart of Atlanta?

Well, I was actually only pretending so I could go see a schizo who lived under a theater, but I think that makes it safe to say that I don't count, since I'm definitely not sane.

I brought it up at breakfast Friday morning before school. I had managed to get up in time to actually sit down and eat some toast with the rest of the family. "So," I said to them through a mouthful of food, "I was thinking that Jenny and I could go shopping downtown this weekend." I said it casually, as though it was a passing fancy, but inside I was a nervous wreck, hoping they would say yes.

"Ooh, I want to come!" Jill said immediately, perking up.

I shrugged. "Okay."

This shut her up. She stared at me, mouth hanging open, a bit of egg spilling out of the corner of her mouth. I wrinkled my nose in distaste and she quickly sucked it back up and shut her mouth.

I could understand her shock. I never let her come shopping with me.

"Seriously?" she said when she had swallowed her egg.

"I'm feeling generous today." I took another bite of toast.

My father was considering this. "I don't know," he said doubtfully. "Downtown Atlanta's a big and busy place. You girls shouldn't be out there alone."

"We can bring Paul," I suggested, brightening.

Ah, I forgot – I should explain my logic. Normally, I would never bring Paul along on a shopping trip, or Jill for that matter. Paul hated it, and Jill loved it a little much for my liking. But this time, I wasn't actually going for the shopping. The more people, the easier to disappear. See? Genius.

Jill was skeptical, though. "You want a guy to go shopping with us?"

"He has to read _Great Expectations _for English," I said with a wave of my hand. "If we don't get him out of the house and away from his video games, he'll never read it. He can finish while we try stuff on." It was true, too. Paul was pretty good about sticking around even when we were doing girl stuff.

Jill shrugged. She wasn't about to argue, considering I was actually letting her come without a fight.

"I still don't know," my father said slowly.

I looked up at my parents and did my best to put on the Bambi-eyes. "Please?"

Jill scooted closer to me and put the same face on, sticking her lower lip out and managing to look pathetic. "Pretty please?"

"Oh, let them go," Mom said with a smile.

"Yes," my sister and I both cheered at the same time.

We turned on each other. "Jinx, you owe me a soda," we both said, again at the exact same time. "Jinx, you owe me a soda – jinx, you owe me a soda – jinx, you owe me a soda – jinx, you owe me a―"

"Girls!" Our father shook his head and glared at us. "Enough is enough!"

"Jinx, you owe me a soda," Jill muttered under her breath at me, but I chimed in and said the 'soda' at the same time as her. She glared at me; it wasn't over until somebody was stumped, no matter how many threats from Dad. It was my turn –

"If you two don't stop, no one's going downtown," Dad threatened.

I got up, putting my dishes in the sink and giving Jill a mock-glare. She returned it. "This isn't over," she growled. It's really funny to hear her growling, and a little scary at the same time.

I grabbed my backpack and squinted at her, trying to look intimidating. "I'll be back," I said, and shut the door behind me.

Still chuckling, I ran to the bus stop, making it just in time and only getting a slight glare from the driver for being late. I sat down next to Jenny and took a look at the book she was reading – of course, a new one, different from yesterday.

"_The Catcher in the Rye_," I read off, shrugging slightly. "Never read it. Is it good?"

"Yeah," she said, still reading. "It's okay."

"Just okay?" I said. "It's a classic. Isn't it supposed to be inspiring or something?"

Jenny turned the page, shaking her head. "Not really. The guy hates everything, and he never shuts up about it. I can't decide if it's annoying or depressing."

"Oh." I propped my legs up on the seat. "So why are you still reading it?"

"You know we're gonna have to read it for lit class eventually anyway," she said, settling back against the window. "Besides, it's an easy read. Half the book is 'I hate this…' or 'I can't stand this…', so you aren't missing much if you skim through it."

"You're really turning me off that book, Jen."

"Sorry." She finished a chapter, sighed, and put it down. "So, what's up?"

"Are you free this weekend?"

"Other than reading _Great Expectations, _yeah."

"You haven't finished it yet?" I said, feigning shock.

Jenny waved a hand. "Yeah, but I'm rereading it so it stays fresh in my mind."

I gaped at her for a minute, not understanding how her mind worked, before remembering what I had been talking about. "Right. Anyway, I want to go shopping downtown this weekend."

"You and me?" she asked, brightening. For being a bookworm, she liked to shop a lot.

"And Jill, and maybe Paul."

"Paul?" Her eyes lit up at the idea of being around him all day, and then she blinked in confusion. "Uh… why would we take Paul shopping with us? You know he hates when we do that."

"My dad feels better when he's around to watch out for us," I said with a shrug. "Besides, he can read _Great Expectations _while we shop. Not everyone can read it twice in a week."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. It sounds cool. I'll ask my parents, but I don't think I'm doing anything, so I can probably come."

"Awesome." My weekend was looking pretty great. "I just have to ask Paul and figure out how to get there."

"If he can come," Jenny pointed out, "his sister might agree to come, too."

"Right." I nodded. "Good idea. She'd love a chance to shop downtown."

Paul's sister, Ashley, was eighteen years old and was used to driving us around. She, like Jill, was a major shopper, and I was sticking to my original idea – the more people, the merrier, since it made it easy for me to disappear and not have it noticed right away.

The bus pulled up to the school and we got off, hurrying over to wait for Paul to get off his bus. "Hey," he said with a smile when he saw us. "What's up, guys?"

He fell into step between us. From the looks on our faces, he immediately knew we wanted something.

"Okay, what is it?" he said with a slight sigh.

"You love us, right?" I said with the Bambi-eyes again.

Paul swallowed. "I'm not gonna like it, am I?"

"It's just a couple of hours of shopping in downtown Atlanta," Jenny said with a smile. We held our breath and waited for his reaction, which probably wasn't going to be too good for us.

"Guys…" Paul groaned. "Shopping?"

"We thought you could catch up on _Great Expectations _while we shop," I said quickly.

Jenny nodded eagerly. "I can help you out. I'm on my second time through."

Paul heaved a defeated sigh. Jenny and I exchanged a triumphant look. "Who's coming?" he asked, glancing between us. A look of fear entered his eyes. "Please tell me Jill isn't tagging along."

"Yep," I said cheerfully. "It's just your lucky day, isn't it?"

"Oh, man, that girl scares me," he said with a shudder.

Jenny hit him playfully on the shoulder. "It gets better."

"No." He had already guessed what we were going to say. "Shopping with you guys is one thing. Shopping with you guys and Jill is another, and you're lucky I'm even considering it. But I am not going to go shopping with you, Jill, _and _my sister."

"Oh, come on," we pleaded. "We need somebody to drive us."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Come on, Paul!"

"No."

"We'll give you candy."

"No."

"We'll pay you."

"No."

Jenny and I looked at one another, put on horrified looks, and stared at Paul tearfully. "You don't love us!" I said, forcing a look of horror and shock on my face. Jenny mirrored it, and we both heaved fake sobs.

Paul rolled his eyes heavenward and groaned at the torture we were mercilessly giving him.

"Fine," I said, sniffing dramatically. "We'll just stay at home and watch depressing movies and cry because you abandoned us and we'll be miserable and eat cookies and get fat and cry until our eyes fall out and then you'll be sorry―"

"Okay, okay, okay," he interrupted, glaring at me. "Fine, I'll go."

"Yay!" we both cheered, dropping the depressed act and hugging him.

Paul, no doubt wishing that he had played hooky today, followed us into school with a look on his face that reminded me of a man being led to the gallows. I grinned at our victory and high-fived Jenny, already imagining the dark cellars of the Fox and how awesome it was going to be.

* * *

I was still beaming with my victory when I got home from school. I dumped my stuff in the hallway and started up to my room, almost skipping with happiness.

"I'm gonna go see the Phaaantom," I sang, to no particular tune. "I'm gonna go see the Phaaantom…"

"Alex!" my mother shouted from down the hall. "Don't you dare just leave your things in the hall!"

I quickly turned and snatched my backpack up off the floor. "Sure, Mom, wouldn't dream of it!" I shouted back, still humming my lame little song to myself. _I'm gonna go see the Phaaantom…_

"Yes you would!" She knew me too well.

"No I wouldn't!" I hollered, and then went into my room and shut the door behind me, dropping my bag on the floor beside my desk and collapsing onto my bed.

I must have fallen asleep, because it felt like only two minutes before Jill burst into my room, even though she doesn't get home until an hour after I do. "Are we going?" she asked excitedly, bouncing onto my bed with more enthusiasm than I had seen in her in quite a long time.

"Yeah, we're going," I said, rubbing my eyes and grinning as I remembered the good news.

"Paul said he'd come?"

"And that he'd ask his sister."

"Yes!" Jill was gone as quickly as she had come, singing a song of her own. "I'm going shopping dooowntooown… I'm going shopping dooowntooown…"

I rolled my eyes and got out of bed. It was a Friday, so I never would've dreamed of doing homework, but I wanted to take a look at the stores around the Fox and figure out which ones everyone would go to. If I could find three or four right around the theater, then the others could hang around in one and I could go on to another by myself – and, of course, by 'going on to another' I mean 'secretly going to the Fox and meeting the Phantom and having a totally awesome time while keeping it a secret from everyone else in the world'.

Yup, this weekend was just going to be awesome. I could tell.


	10. Nicholas Pewterschmidt

**I AM SO SORRY.**

**You all must hate me. Ack, I'm so sorry!! My computer broke down and I was without one for the longest time, so I had to write this chapter on paper during school. I have hardly any time to write anymore because I'm taking three AP classes and I have a boatload – no, a shipload – more like a spaceship-load – of homework. It sucks. **

**So I wrote a few lines at a time, and they all added up. Here they are. **

**I'm so so so so so so so sorry, and I'll try never to let it happen again! Thanks to all of you who are still reading despite the (very very very) long delay!**

**Thanks to: **

**Parukia Agent 007: Sure, as soon as I get time I'd love to try out some of your stories. It'll probably have to be on a weekend, so I won't get to do a lot at once – I usually do homework from the time I get home until 10 at night on schooldays! (I'm slowly but surely going insane.) Thanks for being the first to review the last chapter – you rock!**

**kissbangx3: As always, you're the coolest. Yeah, I should name this chapter Shopping: Pt. II, but I feel like naming it something else… and you'll love it, I'm sure! **

**Mrs. Gerard Butler: Aww, I didn't get the favorite parts list… but that's okay. I know the whole thing is too awesome to put into words! (hehe just kidding) Anyways, thanks for being a loyal reviewer as always. I love you!!! Please forgive me for the wait!**

**Dani Blues: Believe me, you haven't missed much in not shopping downtown. It's really, really crowded. And I didn't know that much about the Fox before I went there a few weeks ago. It's really beautiful, though – if you ever get a chance, you definitely have to go there! Fellow Georgians unite!!!!**

**Phantom mega phan: Yeah, I'm not that big on shopping either. If the shopping chapter was real, I would definitely be Paul! I'm sorry that your first week of school was disappointing for you. Mine was too – I have so much work! I'll try to get these chapters out faster to cheer you up. Feel better! **

**TheRainCan'tHurtMeNow: Thanks for your praise! It means a lot. I forgive you for not being able to review (how could I not forgive anyone for a delay when it took me… um… three months to post this chapter? Heheh….) Keep up the reading and thanks so so much for reviewing!**

**Snape's Opera Rose: Hehe, I love the song too. I actually sing it when I'm bored… which is quite often, as a matter of fact. Thanks for taking the time to read. **

**MonMaskedAnge: Yeah, that's actually not a bad idea (Phantom trapping Alex in the cave). Since this chapter leaves off with her still down there (don't worry, that doesn't really give anything away) I could still use that… hm… thanks for the ideas! I love you guys!**

**Kyre Alder: Yes, I love to keep Alex witty. It's fun.  I hate downtown, too… it's so crowded and smoggy. It's not too pleasant. But yeah, there are a lot of nooks and crannies to disappear in! I'm so sorry it took this long to update. Forgive me? (starry eyes)**

**absurdtheatre: I agree with the creepy-yet-beautiful thing. When I got the idea for this story, I was sitting in the Fox, and I swear I kept feeling like there was someone on the top of the turrets watching us, like Buquet from POTO. That's where I got the idea from. Thanks for your review! It really does make my day to see that someone's been thoughtful enough to leave one!**

**KyrieofAccender: You rock for reviewing so many times! I don't know how to respond to them all. I'm really glad you like the story, and Alex's witty comments. This is the first time I've tried writing this way. I usually write old-fashioned stuff. I'm really glad you like it! Good call on the schizo guess. GASP – you don't like Gerard Butler? I guess even I (an avid Gerard fan) have to admit that he's far from perfect, but there are parts where he's great. No hard feelings though! And I definitely agree with you about shopping and _Great Expectations_. That book should be banned purely for its pointlessness. I'm sure Dickens meant for it to have a point, but I failed miserably in trying to find it. And shopping – well, I've had bad experiences, but it's safe to say that this chapter will have some interesting parts during the shopping episode! Anyways, thanks so much for reviewing! (By the way, a comma splice is when you join two sentences that shouldn't be joined, like: "I went to the car, I took out my keys." They bug me.)**

**Thank you everybody! Enjoy!**

**Of course, I don't own POTO. Or the Fox. Oh, if only… heh, if wishes were fishes I could fill the Grand Canyon. (Picture that in your mind.)**

**Yeah, on with the story. Sorry for babbling!

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Saturday finally came. Paul's parents had said he could go, and his sister had agreed instantly.

Paul was scrunched down in the seat of the car when it pulled up at my house. Jenny and I were waiting on the front steps with Jill, who wouldn't shut up about how awesome everything was.

"Oh, come on, Paul," I said with a laugh as we all piled into Ashley's car. "It won't be that bad."

"Yes, it will," he sulked.

"Will not."

"Will too."

"Oh, shut up," Ashley said to Paul, steering back out onto the street. "You're such a wuss."

Paul glared at her and then at us. "You all suck."

"We know," Jill said happily, and Ashley grinned at her before zooming off down the street towards downtown Atlanta.

We made dumb jokes and laughed the whole way there. It was great. Jill and Ashley kept teasing Paul mercilessly, and Jenny and I were hunched over in our seats cracking up at the look on his face.

At last, we reached Atlanta. It was cool – we parked in the same parking deck as when I'd last been here, at the Fox. I could see the alleyway where the hidden door was, but I knew I couldn't go there yet – I needed to find the right circumstances under which to disappear.

Hah, that makes me sound like a spy.

Anyways, we set off down the street, looking for stores. The first one we found was a shoe store. Ashley and Jill insisted on going in. Jenny and I aren't really the shoe types, so we sat with Paul by the door and watched the other two try things on.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Paul groaned.

We laughed. Jenny smiled at him winningly. "We love you."

"Yeah, you better." He still sounded disdainful, but we could see laughter in his eyes. He was having fun despite himself. "I'm giving up a day when I could be sitting around playing video games, all so that you can go shopping."

"Oh, come on," I said, rolling my eyes. "You know you secretly wanted to come."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

Jenny joined in. Paul was so fun to tease. "You know you love shopping with us," she laughed. "You know you secretly live for it."

I clutched his arm dramatically. "Don't deny it. You die a little inside every day that you're not out shopping with us.

Paul closed his eyes and groaned. "Yes, I do. How in the world did you know."

We looked up as Jill walked by, holding a shoebox. She was heading for a cashier's desk. She looked frustrated. We quieted and listened in on her conversation.

The salesman looked up at her. His hair was longish and black, with purple streaks in it. His shirt, the only part we could see over the counter he was standing behind, was a Kinks shirt. "Jill's dream guy," Jenny whispered to me, and we both chuckled and nodded. Jill loved the Kinks.

"Hi," she said, plunking the shoes down on the counter. "I found these checkerboard Vans, but they're red, and I want them in black."

"Ah," he said with a grin. "Like Charlie Pace, right? Sweet."

Jill's eyes widened and seemed to sparkle. Jenny and I laughed under our breath. Paul rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Here she goes."

"You like Charlie Pace?" Jill gasped.

The salesman's grin got even bigger. "Yeah, man, he's an awesome bloody rock god."

Jill was unable to speak. She let out a little squeak of happiness.

"Hang on," the salesman chuckled. "I'll go see if I can find you those shoes."

And then he walked out from behind the counter and started towards one of the aisles. Jill's eyes got even wider, and Jenny and I curled over ourselves with laughter at the sight and the perfectness of it.

His pants were almost exactly like Roger's from Rent – plaid pajama pants.

The guy walked over and picked up a pair of shoes from the top shelf before bringing them back to Jill and holding them out to her.

Slowly, she reached out and took them. Her mouth was still hanging open. She was stunned into silence, for the first time in the long time I'd known her. The salesman gave her a weird look. "Umm… is everything okay, dude?"

Jill found her voice. In a perfectly calm, straight tone, she said, "You are my idol."

The man blinked a few times, surprised, and then grinned.

Paul turned to look at us. "Is this really happening?"

Jenny put her fist over her mouth to stop herself from laughing hysterically. "I didn't know Jill had that much guts." We nodded agreement and turned back to the scene.

The salesman held out a hand to introduce himself, still smiling. "I'm―"

"Nicholas Pewterschmidt!"

The salesman dropped his hand and grimaced. He slowly turned around and faced the man who had yelled at him. It was a man dressed in black, obviously his manager, and he looked furious.

"Yes, Mr. Smith," the salesman said in the sort of voice you use when you know you have to be respectful even when you don't want to.

"How many times have I talked to you about this, Nicholas?" the manager snapped. "I've told you over and over that you can't just waltz in here and work in your pajamas! It is unacceptable! Look at this!" He gestured to Jill, who still had her mouth gaping open. "You're disturbing the customers! I've had enough of you! You're fired!"

And he walked away.

"Wow," Jenny and I said at the same time.

"For wearing pajamas," Paul said with a shake of his head. "What is the world coming to?"

Nicholas sighed heavily and turned to look at Jill. "Sorry about… that."

Jill blinked.

Nicholas waved his hand in front of her face. "Hello?"

Jenny and I got up, unable to stop laughing, and stood on either side of Jill. "Come on," Jenny said, taking her arm and leading her to the register to buy her the Charlie shoes.

Nicholas looked at me, raising his eyebrows.

"My sister," I explained, still grinning. "I think she's in love with you. You wear Charlie shoes _and _Roger pants."

He chuckled, obviously having seen Rent before. "Well, give her my number. She's pretty cool, too." He scribbled down a phone number on a scrap of paper and handed it to me. We both chuckled as Jill tripped over her own feet on her way to the counter.

"Come on," I said, helping Jenny lead Jill out of the store. Paul and Ashley followed us.

Jill turned around and shouted to Nicholas, "Will you marry me?" He laughed again, and then we were out on the street.

"You're insane," Jenny chuckled.

Jill sighed wistfully and clutched her new shoes. "I've found my Phantom."

Jenny and I exchanged a look and shook our heads, amused. My mind flew back to the guy under the Fox. He was my Phantom, and I still had to figure out how to get down there.

"Hey," I remembered, and held out the piece of paper to Jill. "That Pewterschmidt guy said to give you this when I told him you were in love with him."

Jill took the paper and gazed at it as though it was her long-lost lover. We all snickered.

"Hey, here's a cool shop," Ashley said suddenly, and we all turned to go in.

It was huge – clothing lined every wall and at least a hundred aisles. It was one of the most gigantic stores I had ever seen. And this, of course, meant that it would be so much easier for me to disappear.

We went inside and started milling around. Jenny was looking for a skirt, Jill for belts, and Ashley for whatever she could get her hands on. By the time five minutes had gone by, she had a pile the size of Wisconsin in her arms. Paul and I were wandering the aisles together. He didn't have anywhere to go – he was only there to humor us, and I couldn't just slip away when he was with me.

"So," he said, putting his hands in his pockets. He smiled as Jill skipped by with a bunch of clothes and belts over her shoulder. "I guess Jill's having a good day."

I nodded. "Yeah. Nicholas is pretty cool."

We were both silent for a second. That was small talk, the kind of stuff you say when you don't know what to talk about. We went on without conversation for a moment, awkwardly, before he spoke again.

"I guess some people are just lucky that way," he said wistfully.

I thought I heard some hidden meaning behind his words, but I paid it no attention. "Yeah," I said instead, and hunched my shoulders a little. My thoughts went to the Fox again. What if the guy was waiting for me?

Paul crossed his arms and looked down at his feet. "Yeah." He looked back up at me hesitantly and opened his mouth as if to say something more.

I looked up at him and met his eyes, waiting for him to speak, but he didn't. He just gazed at me.

I saw something in his eyes, something that made me pause. I stopped walking and swallowed. He stopped, too, and turned to face me nervously. I studied the strange thing I had noticed, and slowly it dawned on me what it was.

The beginnings of love.

Paul had a crush on me, and now we both knew it.

Carefully, Paul reached out and took me by the arm. "Hey, you okay?"

My mouth opened and closed, but for a moment, no sound escaped. "Uh," I said finally. My vocabulary seemed to have deserted me. I blinked, closed my mouth, opened it again, blinked one more time, and then suddenly, before Paul knew it – even before I knew it – I was gone.

It took me a second to realize I was running. I heard Paul following me and sped up, weaving through aisles, trying to get away. I didn't even know why I was running in the first place, but for some reason I had latched onto the belief that I just _had _to escape somewhere away from him.

Jenny looked up in shock as I dashed past. "What are you―?" she started to ask

"Help!" I hissed.

She looked behind me and blinked in confusion, wondering why I was fleeing from Paul, who couldn't possibly mean me any harm. Without asking, though, she quickly stuck her foot out, just in time to trip Paul and then catch him as he fell. I ducked under a row of trenchcoats as she helped him up, stalling him as long as she could.

He left her behind and kept running, but I was well hidden by then. I held my breath as he raced by, trying to find me.

"Excuse me, sir!" I heard one of the sales attendants call to him. "Please, no running in the store, you may upset the customers or the merchandise. I'll have to ask you to settle down or leave."

While he was distracted, I slid on one of the trenchcoats and snuck out of my hiding place. Again, I don't know why I did what I did, but for some reason I believed that I couldn't get out of the store unseen unless I bought the trenchcoat, so I did. Then I slid out the door.

Well, I hadn't quite made the inconspicuous exit I'd been hoping for when I came up with the shopping idea, but at least I was out of the store and free to wander.

Behind me, within the shop, I heard Paul call my name. "Where are you, Alex?"

"Calm down," Jenny said to him, sounding exasperated. "Whatever's going on, she'll catch up with us again eventually. Let's just sit down over here and wait for her."

"Thanks, Jen," I murmured, and set off down the street.

I found the alley easily enough. It was almost invisible unless you knew where to look for it. I made sure no one was watching and then crept inside, making my way to the door.

It was unlocked, so I opened it slowly, wincing at the creaks it made. I slid inside, feeling sneaky and detective-ish in my trenchcoat, which reached the floor and trailed behind me, sweeping over the dust on the ground and dredging up clouds of it.

_If I only had a magnifying glass and a pipe right now, _I thought in amusement.

It was dark inside the hallway once I shut the door. I held onto the wall with one hand and made my way down past the various locked doors. At last, I came to the end of the hall. I was in the room with the harp.

"Hello?" I called softly, turning in a circle and looking for signs of life anywhere. "Are you here?"

No answer. I gave up shouting and started to wander.

The place wasn't that big, considering all the doors were locked, so I ended up going to the torch room and up through the trapdoor out of boredom. I slid it shut once I was through and set off down the passageway.

It was the one I had first come through to find the underground lair, and I had a sense of deja-vu as I went down it again. I passed the entrance I had come through the last few times and continued on up the tunnel. It sloped upward as I advanced, and my legs started to get tired.

While I walked, I forced myself to confront my newest problem. What was I going to do about Paul? How long had he had a crush on me? How serious was it? Because I didn't really know what I thought about it, but knowing that Jenny was seriously in love with him, I couldn't just turn around and get together with him. That would hurt her, and then I could never forgive myself.

An idea hit me then. _Raoul. _Paul having this crush on me was like Raoul with Christine - an old childhood friend, one she had been fond of since she could remember.

I shook my head. This was getting more and more like the story. It had to be a coincidence. My life couldn't be _exactly _like Christine's. That would just be too weird. My parents were still alive. I had a sister. And what about Jenny?

Meg. Right. But Meg wasn't in love with Raoul!

Or was she? Who really knows? Maybe she was! Maybe he would have ended up happy with her and then Christine would never have had to leave the Phantom in the first place! Ooh, that makes me mad. If only she hadn't been an idiot, everyone could have ended up happy!

_Anyways_, back to Paul. I didn't know what to do. Should I avoid the subject? Tell him flat out that I didn't like him? He'd want a reason why I couldn't give him a chance. Maybe I could tell him about the Phantom... but that would be betraying him, so I couldn't do that. Ugh, what to do? What to do, what to do, what to do?

Suddenly I was distracted from my thoughts. I turned a corner and the hallway ended. I was standing at the edge of a little platform overlooking the stage.

It was amazing. I was hidden in a dark corner over the audience with the huge theater spread out in front of me. The stage was completely in view – no tall people sitting in front to block my view, like in the seats down below.

"Wow," I heard myself murmur. It was incredible.

"What are you doing here?"

I jumped and almost fell off the balcony. The Phantom of the Fox, who had appeared at my side without me even noticing, caught my arm and pulled me back to safety.

"Thanks," I said in relief.

He gave me a long glare.

Ah, so it was the bad side of him that I'd met with.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again, looking angry that I had dared to come back and disturb him. I guess that had to be pretty annoying.

"I came to visit…" I realized I didn't have a name for either of them. "Your other half. He asked me to come back."

The Phantom narrowed his eyes. "I asked you not to come back."

"Yeah, but he asked nicely," I pointed out.

"So why did you come here?" he asked, managing to sound both curious and angry at the same time.

"Well, I checked your lair, but you weren't there."

This earned a chuckle. I blinked in surprise – I hadn't known the evil side of the Phantom was even capable of laughter. I stared at him, stunned into silence (for once).

He noticed and shook his head. "My lair. You make me sound like the Phantom."

"You are," I replied. "You live under a theater, too. Seriously, have you never noticed the similarities before? It borders on the seriously freaky."

"Yeah." His voice was a little bit wistful.

I shot him a playful smile. "You just live in different centuries, that's all. He was the Phantom of the Opera, and you're the Phantom of the Fox."

He chuckled again at the name and shook his head, turning his attention to the stage. Christine and the Phantom were just descending into his lair under the opera house. It was one of my favorite scenes in the entire thing, because Christine was entirely carefree – she wasn't obliged to stay true to Raoul, and she could just enjoy herself with her wonderful, handsome, beautiful, charming Phantom…

The look on my face must have been pretty weird, because when I blinked out of my thoughts, the Phantom of the Fox was giving me a strange look out of the corner of his eyes.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I was spacing out."

He turned his attention back to the stage. Hmph. I guess I wasn't even worthy of a response.

"Come on," he said after a second, taking my arm and pulling me backwards, away from the ledge and back towards the passageway I'd come through.

"Hey," I protested, trying to pull away from him. "I want to watch."

"No."

"But it's the Phantom of the Opera!"

"You've seen it before." His voice was cold and uncaring. "The night you first stumbled on us and ruined our lives."

I yanked my arm out of his grasp and stuck my finger in his face. "Look, you might not like me very much, but the side of you that's _not _a jerk wanted me to come back. He's lonely. He's afraid of you. And he should be! I don't blame him! You're a creep! But if he wants me to come back and keep him company, then that's what I'm going to do, and you can't stop me!"

He stalked up to me, eyes blazing with anger, and glared down into my eyes. I tried to stand up straight and glare back at him, but it wasn't easy, considering he was almost a foot taller than I was.

"Is that so?" he hissed, drawing out each word threateningly.

I was silent and clenched my jaw, willing myself not to shake with fear. I wasn't usually afraid of people who tried to intimidate me, but considering I was standing on a ledge between open air and a person who hated me, a person who could have shoved me off the edge to the mercy of the fifty-foot-drop… well, I had a right to be afraid.

"You're afraid," he said with a smirk, taking another step forward and forcing me back a step.

I swallowed, but narrowed my eyes. "Am not."

"You are," he said, and I could see laughter back in his eyes, but this time it was far from harmless giggles. It was maniacal, evil, twisted. If he was Lex Luthor or some other notorious baddie, he would have thrown his head back and laughed aloud, and then his laugh would have echoed theatrically in the theater and the audience would gasp in shock, and it would be a perfect Hollywood moment.

"You are afraid," he smirked, taking another step closer. "Because you know just as well as I do that there is nothing stopping you from going… over… the edge." He took that final step forward, and I took one back – and my food landed on air.

I started to fall and opened my mouth to scream.

For the second time that day, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. Despite how angry I was at him, and how afraid I was of him, I reached out and grabbed him, pulling myself back onto the ledge and burying my face in his chest. He might have been a jerk, but some part of me insisted that if I clung to him, I wouldn't fall again. I was still in shock that he had gone as far as he did.

He snorted at me. "You believed I would let you fall? Pathetic. If you had, the cops would have tried to find where you fell from, and that would have led them to me."

I jerked back and looked up at him, punching his chest with my fist angrily. "You care more about the cops finding you than me dying?"

His raised eyebrows and amusement answered that question for me.

"That's sick," I spat.

"It's called self-preservation, kid," he said, and turned around, pulling me down the passage after him. I was too shaky from my former near-death encounter to object.

"Kid?" I said instead, slightly offended. "I'm your age."

"You don't act it."

"And you do?" I retorted sarcastically. "You're a hundred times worse than me!"

"At least I know where I'm not wanted." We reached the trapdoor, and he pulled it open, gesturing for me to go first.

I crossed my arms, refusing to do as he wanted. "Believe me, I know perfectly well that you don't want me around. I wouldn't be too disappointed if you weren't here, either. But you're not the only person who lives down in that lair. You're not even the only person in your own body!"

"I know that," he growled, and shoved me towards the trapdoor. Rather than fall through, I climbed in and waited for him to come down after me, which he did, with all the grace of the true Phantom himself. "There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not reminded of it."

"Well, I'm not here for you. I'm here for him."

"And he's not here right now." He stalked past me into the harp room.

I followed him, not finished with my argument. "Then I'm staying here until he comes back."

Abruptly, he stopped walking and turned around to look at me. I stopped quickly so that I wouldn't run into him and looked up into his eyes, but I found more confusion than hatred there.

"How does this not freak you out?"

The question took me by surprise. It was a very Phantom-esque question, now that I thought about it. Of course he would assume that his split personalities normally weirded people out. That was probably why he was down here – everybody treated him differently because of his disorder.

"It does freak me out a little," I admitted finally, "but not enough to make me leave."

I thought that might possibly inspire him to smile, or say something even remotely nice, but instead he narrowed his eyes and glared at me even harder. "I get what you're trying to do. You're trying to play Christine to us. You're playing the good and noble game – be nice to the freaks. Right?"

I blinked in surprise. "I'm not being nice to you just because you're―"

"Just because I'm what?" he cut in, furious. "A freak? A psycho? Or maybe you would use a euphemism – because I'm different, or because I'm _special_?"

My mouth opened and closed.

He towered over me again, and this time I couldn't stop myself from shaking. "You can try all you want to play the saint," he said in a quiet voice that was somehow more terrible than his shouts, "but I am _not _going to play your Phantom."

And with that he turned on his heel and left the room.

I stood where I was and gaped.

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**Heheheh. It's so much fun to write about evil-Phantom. Can you say "drama?" And now picture the screen going black on Alex in the lair and the little TNT logo coming up with the little _we know drama!_ thingie, and those creepy voices whispering "TNT… TNT…" while it pulses, sucking the life out of you bit by bit as you sit on the edge of your seat and wait for the drama to consume your otherwise drama-less life……….**

**Okay, I'll stop now.**

**(Beware the pulsing TNT.)**


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